


Sleeping With a Friend

by bottledlightning



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3430910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledlightning/pseuds/bottledlightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This wasn’t love-dovey, fluttery butterflies in your stomach, touchy-feely crap. It was about sex."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Electric

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated as explicit because it's gonna get explicit after this first part. I have never published fic anywhere before so I hope it's somewhat decent. I'm gonna try and follow canon. Also I'm too obsessed with these two for my own good. It's a real shame that they very likely will not happen :(

They were at Rachel’s party and the music was way too loud. Spencer had relegated himself to the couch in the basement’s corner. He sniffed the concoction Sam had mixed up inside the bright blue cup he’d been handed and scrunched his nose—he was pretty sure he’d somehow gotten Kurt’s drink.

He watched the rest of the glee club—old and new—cut loose on the sort-of-dancefloor, their moves goofy and unhinged. As much as he wanted to join them, it just wasn’t in Spencer’s nature to let go of himself like that. Madison and Mason were doing what he wasn’t sure if it was dance-off or a weird couples routine. It was kind of endearing. All spastic limbs and silly moves. Completely unashamed—Spencer envied that.

Mercedes and Roderick got onstage to sing their song. They had chosen ‘All About That Bass’, a song Spencer would never in a million years admit he enjoyed. He was tapping his foot along to the beat when Madison gestured for him to join them. “Come on!” she mouthed. Spencer hesitated but gave in. That sort of thing seemed to come so easy for the New Directions—even Roderick, shy awkward Roderick, was tearing it up with Mercedes. Spencer felt stiff and uneasy so he stuck to every bad dancer’s go-to move—the two step. The one where you casually shifted from one foot to the other to the rhythm of the music. As out of place as he felt, none of his fellow glee club members looked like they were judging him.

It wasn’t until Kurt and Blaine’s song, when they broke out the props, that Spencer began to unselfconsciously have fun. There was something about having ridiculous props that made everything else less ridiculous in comparison. It was strange and exciting to be dancing like no one was watching, pink tutu and all. He was dancing, actually dancing. Well, he was probably more like awkwardly flailing, but still.

“You know if someone told me I’d live to see the Spencer Porter dancing in a hot pink tutu with a cowboy hat to match, I’d call them a liar,” Mason said.

“I earned this tutu,” Spencer said,”I had to fight Kitty for it.”

Spencer grabbed Mason’s hand and gave him a little twirl. Mason laughed.

Spencer thought Mason was hot, with his floppy curly hair and his expressive features. They often had practice at the same time and place. Mason was always lively and excited—game for whatever Sue threw at her Cheerios. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was playing for his team. On one hand he was in the Glee Club and the Cheerios, a combination only ever attempted by Kurt Hummel, McKinley’s most out and proud student in probably like, ever. On the other hand he’d seen him and Jane together and something was definitely there. Maybe he was bi? Spencer hadn’t really talked to him much so when they were spinning the wheel of musical fortune (or whatever ridiculous name they had given it), Spencer kinda hoped he’d get paired with Mason, He didn’t. He’d gotten Artie or something. He knew he’d been right about picking names out of a hat instead.

Once Sam and Rachel had finished their duet, the rest of the glee club sort of blew off their assignment. No one was going to be paying much attention, anyways. The older glee kids got increasingly drunk and therefore increasingly willing to give the new kids alcohol, something Mason seemed to be taking full advantage of. Mason was sitting by himself at the “bar”—a rare occasion since his sister and him were practically joined at the hip—and damn it, Spencer was going to take advantage of that moment. Spencer may have been a clumsy dancer, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was flirting.

“You know you should be careful with that, it tastes harmless but it will mess you up,” Spencer said, pointing the bottle of black vodka in Mason’s hand.

“Please. If going to the Wappa Kineta Cheer Camp all these years has taught me anything is how much liquor i can hold. Which admittedly is not a lot. But it’s also not a little. I know what I’m doing.” Spencer could tell he was tipsy, by the way he paused after each sentence and furrowed his brows a little before beginning the next one.

“Really? What else did you do at this cheerleading camp?” asked, inching a little closer to Mason. He hoped it wasn’t overly obvious that he was trying to probe Mason for information about his sexual orientation.

“Cheerleading. And some other stuff that I am definitely not telling you,” Mason giggled, poking Spencer's arm with his fingertip.

“Well, now you have to tell me,” Spencer said, in the flirtiest tone he could muster.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but camp was the best place to experiment with fluid sexuality. You could just try whatever and it was okay, we wouldn’t see each other the rest of the year, if ever,” Mason shrugged.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what was the verdict?”

“Inconclusive,” Mason said with a sigh. _Inconclusive._ Spencer could work with that. “Wait a second, Spencer Porter are you trying to hit on me?”

“What if I am?” Spencer asked, getting close enough that their noses were almost touching.

“Nothing. Just surprised, that’s all,” Mason said, his voice lowering to a mutter.

“Hot football player hits on also hot cheerleader. It’s not uncommon.”

“Oh, so you think I’m hot?”, Mason raised an eyebrow, “You know I have a thing for Jane, right?” Mason immediately shut up, clearly having realized what he’d blurted out.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a thing for me.”

Spencer grabbed Mason, who downed the rest of his drink, by the wrist and dragged him out of basement. No one noticed them slip away.  
Spencer contemplated on where they could go. This was the first time he’d ever been to Rachel’s house, he had no idea where anything was. He then spotted the coat closet, into which he pulled Mason.

“Going back into the closet I see?” Mason said, laughing hard at his own corny joke.

“Shut up,” Spencer rolled his eyes before closing the door behind them and pressing Mason against the wall and into a kiss. Their teeth clashed but neither pulled back. Spencer had one hand cupping Mason’s face and the other one on his waist, pulling him closer. Mason was kissing him back hard, pressing his lips increasingly insistently against Spencer’s, his hands making their way under Spencer’s shirt, his fingers sending chills in their wake. Mason moaned, hushed and restrained—they were in someone else’s coat closet, after all—as Spencer parted his lips, sliding his tongue against Mason’s. It was so quiet, you could hear every inhale and exhale, every mutter and whimper. Mason was tall and athletic, but he felt so much smaller against Spencer’s much more muscular build. Mason began kissing Spencer’s collarbones, leaving a trail of little pecks along them, then side of his throat, then his jawline before finding his way back to his lips. They were writhing against each other a lot, almost entirely pressed together, Spencer wondered if Mason could feel how hard he was. Spencer tangled his fingers in Mason’s curly hair and said, low and breathless, “God, you’re so hot.”

“It’s so dark in here you can hardly see me.”

“I don’t have to see you,” Spencer said, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, “In fact, let me show you just how hot I think you are.” He slid his hands down to the waist of Mason’s jeans, his fingers tracing the outline of his hip bones, ready to unbutton them. Mason was hard too, he could feel it below his hands.

“Wait,” Mason whispered, “ _Wait_. I can't. I’m not doing this in Ms.Berry’s closet.”

Spencer wanted to protest and say that it was barely her closet anymore but instead uttered a low ‘ _okay_ ’. He felt disappointed.After all, he was going to have to deal with blue balls, which was never pleasant. If it was Mason’s decision, and he had to respect it. He wasn’t about to be one of _those_ guys. But fuck, he had really wanted to get laid.

“Maybe we should get going, Madison’s probably wondering where I am,” Mason said, his nose brushing lightly against Spencer’s.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Spencer replied, masking his disappointment with the cold nonchalance that came so easy to him.

 

***

 

His sister was driving them home. Mason wasn’t drunk or tipsy anymore—it was the sobering effect of Spencer trying to stick his hand down his pants that was to blame. Much like everything else he shared his car with his sister—it was a bit of an old clunker, but it had spirit. Mason was quiet, staring out the window, busy trying to ignore his boner (while cursing his decision to wear tight pants) and avoiding eye contact with his sister, with whom he had a near telepathic connection with and who definitely had to know something was up.

“Hey, you’re being super quiet.” she said, as if had read his mind.

“I’m just totally drained from all the dancing.” he replied quickly.

“I know, right? I thought it was just going to be like a chill kickback or something but it was definitely not that.” He felt weird not telling his sister what had happened, but he knew it was for the best. Madison could be so nosy. She’d end up asking him a million questions, questions he didn’t really have an answer to. He could picture her asking him if he was gay. He’d say no because he wasn’t, but he also wasn’t sure what he was. Was he attracted to Spencer? There was no denying he was an attractive person (despite having a less than attractive personality), but one could appreciate someone aesthetically without any sexual attraction being there, right? Then again if there wasn’t any sexual attraction he wouldn’t be in his car trying to hide his hard-on. It wasn’t that Mason personally had any problems being into guys per se, it was more that after a few incidents at camp, incidents that confused more than clarified, Mason thought it’d be much less messy and exhausting to just consider himself straight. He didn’t think he was bisexual—he was rarely into boys. In fact he’d only ever been truly attracted to one boy, ever. Was that enough to classify him as a Kinsey scale three?

“Mace? Mason? Hello?” Madison was snapping her fingers right in his face, “Are you there?”

“Yes, sorry. You were saying?”

They spent the rest of the car ride talking, with Madison doing most of it. Mason made an effort to participate in the conversation, trying to appear as attentive as possible but his mind kept drifting off. He kept thinking of Spencer, of how his breath felt on his neck and how it sent shivers down his spine. Spencer’s fingertips were rough—a result of playing the guitar, probably—and they felt so good sliding around his waist. Mason felt like he smelled of the other boy—a mix of sweat and deodorant and some kind of musky cologne. He wanted to turn it off. What did Spencer see in him anyways? Clearly he’d just been looking for a lay and he’d been the easiest target. Guys like Spencer were like that. They didn’t care for feelings. Mason would never be just another notch in someone’s belt.

Even though it was three in the morning, Mason jumped in the shower the moment he got home. He let the warm water hit his back in that soothing way it always did. He was going to rid himself of all traces of what had happened, starting by taking care of some boner-related business. He closed hid eyes and leaned against the cool, tiled wall, glad that the first person that appeared in his head was Jane. He pictured her in Spencer’s place in that stuffy closet at Ms.Berry’s. In his mind he let her keep going, not stopping her like he had with Spencer. And then he returned the favor. He came before he could finish the movie playing in his head. He washed away the sticky feeling and sighed. Not the exhausted kind of sigh. A pleased sigh. The sigh of someone who had officially put something behind them.


	2. Cause this is trouble, yeah this is trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you dig this, it has sex and stuff. I feel like it's really crappy but I tried.

 

 

They hardly talked to each other after the party. Besides a few polite ‘hello’s they didn’t interact at all. It was awkward. Sometimes the team would be practicing at the same time as the Cheerios and Spencer would try to catch Mason’s eye. He never could—Mason was almost always either super concentrated on the routine or talking (probably without ever stopping to breathe, as usual) to his sister. He wondered if Mason did the same thing. 

Spencer was not the sort of person to sit and do nothing when he wanted something—or better yet, _someone—_ but he also wasn’t the sort of person who’d beg for someone’s attention. He was Spencer Porter, he could probably have any dude he wanted—well, any dude that was at least a little bit into dudes. Why was he so stuck on Mason? Mason who was into Jane. Mason who had probably only made out with him because he was tipsy. Mason who hadkissed him and made his mind go all fuzzy. It wasn’t a crush, not really. He wasn’t a middle school girl pining after some boy. It was more of a ‘I want to bend you over a table want to fuck your brains out’ situation. Or ‘you popped into my head maybe one or several times every time I jerked off over the past few days’. Entirely different things. This wasn’t love-dovey, fluttery butterflies in your stomach, touchy-feely crap. It was about sex.

Spencer lifted the weight and let out a frustrated grunt. All this thinking about other people was annoying him.

“Someone sounds mad,” Sam said as he burst into the locker room, with that dopey smile he always had on. Sam knew Spencer lingered around for longer than the other players so sometimes he’d stop by to keep him company. He was a really good-hearted, if slightly dimwitted, guy.

“Nah, Coach,”Spencer replied,”just really tired.”

“This wouldn’t happen to be about Mason at Rachel’s party would it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, is it a secret? I’m so sorry, I’ll totally not tell anyone don’t worry, dude.” Sam made a ‘my lips are sealed gesture’ to illustrate, “It’s just that I saw you two sneakin’ off and—”

“Nothing happened, we both needed to get some air,”Spencer grumbled as he lowered the weight. It was suprising that Sam even noticed, given the fact that he and Rachel had been making googly eyes at each other all night.

“All right, that’s good. Because I see him lookin’ at Jane a lot. Wouldn’t want my favorite player get his heart broken,” Sam said, he then turned to look at his watch, “Ah, crap I have to meet Rachel. Listen, I gotta run, but I’ll see you in Glee rehearsal, All right?”

“Yeah, Coach.” 

Spencer got up to gather his things from his locker. It was late, there wasn’t much of a point in showering since he’d be going straight home. He always stayed until much later than the rest of his team. It was important that he stay in the best shape possible if he wanted his teammates’ respect. If that meant working twice as hard as anyone else on the football team, then so be it. He didn’t want to be known as ‘the gay kid,' no, he was going to be known as the best damn athlete McKinley had ever seen—who also happened to be gay. 

The screen of his phone lit up: _Kitty Wilde added two new photos of you._ He slid his thumb across the screen, hoping to God it wasn’t an embarrassing picture of him wearing the tutu, that Kitty had uploaded as some form of revenge for taking it from her at the party. It wasn’t. Well, not really, he was wearing it, it was just out of frame. It was group selfie (with a dated reference to the Oscar selfie from the previous year). He swiped to see the next picture. It was a picture Kitty had taken with Jane—and behind them was Spencer twirling Mason. Mason had a big, lopsided grin on his face, the sort of grin that fairly inebriated people always had plastered on. 

Suddenly the door flung open, startling Spencer.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—Spencer?” It was Mason, still wearing the pants of his Cheerio uniform, but with a grey T-shirt that did not match them at all. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, giving him a nod.

“I thought you were the janitor. What are you still doing here? It’s like super late,” Mason said.

“Lifting,” Spencer replied bluntly, “how about you?”

“I, um, forgot some stuff in my locker,” he looked uncomfortable and was obviously was trying hard to hide it.

It was very silent. You could hear the clicking sound of Mason’s lock and him shuffling through his things. Spencer finished shoving the last of his stuff in his gym bag before closing his locker with a clang that echoed through the empty locker room.

Spencer went up to where Mason was, leaning against the lockers next to the other boy’s.

“You know, just because we made out, doesn’t mean it has to be weird. You don’t have to pretend it never happened. It’s wasn’t a big deal.”

_“_ What makes you say I’m pretending it never happened?” Mason asked defensively. 

“You avoid me all the time and when you can’t, you look incredibly uncomfortable. You aren’t a very subtle person, and I’m not blind. If you want to put it in the past maybe don’t try so hard to pretend it didn’t happen,” he knew he sounded cold and a little condescending, and he intended to. Spencer was not used to being rejected, or worse, being rejected and _then_ ignored. 

“God, you are so arrogant!” Mason said, slamming his locker shut, “Do you think the whole world revolves around you? Maybe you’re just paranoid!”Spencer would never know this, because Mason would never admit it, but he had indeed been aggressively avoiding him.

_“_ And you’re childish if you can’t admit to yourself that you actually enjoyed kissing me,” Spencer scoffed.

“I never said I didn’t enjoy kissing you.” 

“Good,” Spencer murmured. They stood there, both with their arms crossed and their eyes locked. It was the first time Spencer noticed Mason had blue eyes. They weren’t sort of eyes that demanded your attention—small and sleepy and one of them often curtained by loose, dark curls, they were easily overshadowed by his long, rounded nose or the pinkness of his mouth—but now that he was really observing them, bright blue and electric, he could not understand how he’d failed to pick up on it before.

“Look, I should get going, my sister is waiting for me and I promised her I’d marathon the ‘Bring It On’ movies with her,” Mason said, finally breaking eye contact. He slung his backpack onto his shoulder and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Spencer said. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Did you really stop me when we were at Rachel’s because you didn’t want to do stuff in her closet?”

“Not entirely, “ Mason shook his head, “I just didn’t want to start some messy thing I wouldn’t know how to deal with.” 

“It doesn’t have to be messy,” Spencer said inching closer towards him, “it's just two friends hooking up.”

“Please. We’re hardly friends. I don’t think you had ever spoken to me before joining the glee club.”

“I thought you were hot though.”

“You’re just saying that to get in my pants. I know people like you. Once you get what you want you’ll discard me like last week’s _TV Guide_.”

“That’s a little hypocritical though, isn’t it? Saying that like you’re on some kind of moral high ground, like that’s the only thing keeping you from going further with me. You’d kick me to the curb moment you had a shot with Jane,” he could tell by Mason’s face that what he was saying was true, “why not enjoy an arrangement like this? The sort-of-friends with benefits kind? If you and Jane ever become a thing then we’re done. _In fact if any of us wants out were done._ It’ll be that easy. You’re attracted to me, I’m attracted to you, we both get our rocks off. No strings.” By the time he finished his little speech, Spencer was standing seriously close to Mason—mere inches apart from his face.

“Even if I want to I—” Mason whispered, placing his hand on Spencer’s chest to keep him from getting even closer, “Don’t think it’s the smartest move to,” Mason seemed to lose his train of thought as his gaze lowered to Spencer’s lips, “repeat what happened,” he finished, quietly.

“You sure about that, McCarthy?”

“I don’t know.”

With the hand he had on Spencer’s chest, he grasped at the other boy’s shirt, closing whatever little space they had between them. They weren’t kissing, their lips were hardly touching but Spencer could feel Mason’s breathing on him and it was making him want to do all sorts of inappropriate things.

“What are we getting ourselves into?” Mason said softly, “What am I getting myself into?”

Mason pressed a tentative kiss against his lips. Spencer kissed him back, so fiercely that it was as if he was mad at him or something. Spencer grabbed Mason by the waist pulling him somehow even closer than he already was. He wanted to feel Mason entirely pressed against him. Mason was doing that thing he’d done at Rachel’s, the kissing along the collarbone thing and it was driving him nuts. He was dragging the kisses out so damn slowly, each hot and heavy and not enough. And God, he smelled so good.

Mason tugged on Spencer’s shirt, trying to remove it. Spencer pulled it off easily by the neckline. He was sweaty and he probably smelled kind of gross from lifting, but he couldn’t really think about that too much when Mason’s kisses kept going lower and lower, at a painstakingly slow pace, his fingernails dragging down along Spencer’s back, until he reached the waistline of Spencer’s pants. He hesitated.

“Hey, you okay?” Spencer asked, “Don’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

“No, I want to.” Mason said, “Also, geez, you’re really hard.”

Mason pulled Spencer’s pants down, then his briefs. Mason’s fingers curled around him gingerly, before licking a stroke along the shaft.

“Fuck,” Spencer moaned, sticking his hands in Mason’s hair.

Mason’s lips parted, and slid delicately over the head of his dick. Slowly he took in more, gagging a little when it hit the back of his throat. People acted like having absolutely no gag reflex was the best goddamn thing in the world, but Spencer disagreed—honestly, having someone choke a bit from having his dick in their mouth went straight to his ego. Spencer wondered if Mason had done this before. There was no way he’d never blown someone before and managed to go that far down on his dick on the first go. Mason had found a rhythm, his hand matching his lips as they slid along his cock. 

Mason’s mouth was warm and wet and it felt so good. His already prominent cheekbones looking even sharper as he sucked him off. When he reached the tip, Mason’s tongue would swirl around it, licking the slit especially slowly. His nails were dug firmly into Spencer’s back, it hurt, but it was that good kind of hurt that initially sent you a jolt of pain that then settled into something strangely comforting.

“Mason I’m gonna—” Mason looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. He didn’t stop, instead he picked up the pace, never breaking eye contact with Spencer. His knees buckled and his hips jerked forward. “Fuck,” Spencer moaned as he came in Mason’s mouth with a few quick spurts. Mason eased back as Spencer’s dick slid through his lips with the faintest pop. Spencer could see some of his come running down Mason’s chin. Mason’s hair was messy, probably from Spencer grabbing on to it, and his lips were bright red and swollen. _He was so hot_. Mason swallowed and wiped the come off the corner of his mouth before getting off his knees. Spencer kissed him, this time softly. He could taste the sharpness of his come on Mason’s mouth. They stayed like that for a little bit, lips brushing, processing what had just happened.

“I should get going,” Mason said, “it’s getting late.”

“I’ll give you a ride”

“No, no, it’s okay. I have my car.” Mason mumbled quickly before hurrying off.

 

***

The moment Mason got in his car he slumped over the steering wheel with a sigh. _God, Mason what are you doing?_ Mason McCarthy was not the sort of guy that hooked up with people in locker rooms all willy nilly. Especially not people like Spencer. Spencer who just wanted to fuck, with all that ‘no-strings’ talk. And Mason had given him exactly what he wanted. Had he no dignity? Had he really just blown somebody? _At school?_ Where was his restraint? His willpower? He was into _Jane._ He’d spent the last few weeks trying to work up the nerve to ask her out—to no avail because every time he approached her, nothing but absurd babble cascaded out of his mouth (he still had no idea how he’d managed to duet with her without turning into putty: when she touched his shoulder he thought he’d gone blind for a second). But he had been kind of horny and Spencer was there and— _oh God was he was just as bad as Spencer_? He wasn’t going to lie to himself—Spencer was hot. Like really hot. Like melt your face off hot. But he couldn’t let himself keep doing whatever it was they were doing, right? He didn’t think he could settle for just sex and nothing else. Mason liked the other parts of having a relationship—the going on dates and the nervousness and the intimacy. He liked his strings attached, thank you very much. 

God, It was like a rehash of what had happened on Friday. The emotional crisis. The being in the car while said crisis was occurring. Mason was now going to forever associate being in his car with all these confusing feelings.

This sort of situation was very new to him. When he hurried off it was because he didn’t really know what to do. Was he supposed to wait for Spencer to return the favor? Or wait for Spencer to thank him or something like ‘ _hey thanks for letting me stick my dick in your mouth’_? Was there such a thing as hook up etiquette?

He could still taste Spencer’s come on his tongue. He didn’t hate it like he thought he would. It was sticky and weird but not terrible. 

He felt like his brain was screaming at him, telling him to stop thinking about Spencer, telling him he was bad news and that nothing good could come out being someone’s fuckbuddy. For some odd reason his brain sounded like Madison. And he knew that was true! But he was also a teenager, a hormone-driven, horny teenager. And that part of him was telling him to go for it, because what did he have to lose? It wasn’t like Spencer and him had some sort of deep bond that ran the risk of being severed. Furthermore, he could get out any time he wanted. 

Mason didn’t know how, but the horny part of him seemed to be making more sense than the supposedly logical one. Maybe he just had to let loose. Maybe he just had to stop overthinking. It would only be bad for him if he had romantic feelings for Spencer, right? If they were both on the same page, no one had the upper hand. And if no one had the upper hand and both of them were in it purely for the hooking up, then no one would get hurt, _right_? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to, as Spencer put it, ‘get his rocks off’ while he was still trying to work up the courage to ask Jane out. Without giving it another thought, Mason reached for his phone and texted Spencer:

_‘Okay.’_

 

 

 

 


	3. It’s A Risk But Babe, I Need The Thrill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I rushed this a little bit but I just really wanted to update this week before the new episode (and also before I have to start studying for exams) so yeah I only gave it a quick look for typos so if there's anything I missed I'm sorry!!
> 
> edit: ok so I rewrote the last paragraph because I had rushed it the first time and didn't like how it sounded and I think this one fits much better :)

For some reason they had decided to hold their wedding in a barn. Some dingy old barn that apparently was the birthplace of Brittany—there was a whole story about indigestion and childbirth and licking cows that Mason wasn’t sure he’d heard right since it sounded absolutely bananas. He wondered how romantic the wedding could be with the smell of wet petting zoo engulfing everyone.

They had been called to help “fix up” the place for the wedding, but Mason thought not even the folks from Extreme Makeover would be able to accomplish such a feat, let alone a group of teenagers. 

 He was unsure as to how this was going to help them prepare for Sectionals, because it felt an awful lot like they were just there to do some heavy-lifting for a bunch of people they hardly knew.

Brittany was in full pre-wedding panic mode, alternating between yelling at people and nearly crying. Kurt was trying to keep her calm, telling her that things were going to be fine and how normal it was for her to be freaking out. Brittany was not influenced by his soothing words. She stormed over to Madison her voice shaky and agitated and said that what she was doing was wrong. “Can we like, can we just like throw them way up high?” As if all the white fabric and fairy lights in the world could turn that barn into a gorgeous wedding venue.

“There’s dirt on the white thing!” she snapped at Mason, who didn’t really know how to react.

 He spotted Jane carrying a large box she could hardly wrap her arms around. Seeing it as an excuse to talk to her he immediately rushed to her aid. 

“Hey, Jane, you um, need any help with that?”

“No, it’s fine it’s just bunch of lights, I can handle it.” He could hardly see her face peek out from the top of the box. 

“You sure? I’m pretty strong. All those years in cheerleading will give you some guns, you know?” Mason instantly cringed at what he had just said. _Guns?_ He was indeed strong (he had cheerleaders stand on the palm of his hand almost every day), but he had no right to refer to his limp noodle-looking arms as _guns._

_“_ Okay,” she said, with a laugh. _Good, she took it as a joke, thank God,_ “If you insist on helping.” She handed him the box. It was heavier than he had expected it to be but he showed no signs of weakness.

“Where am I supposed to take this?”

“To Artie. Brittany’s orders.”  

“Ok,” Mason said, attempting to give her a thumbs up without dropping the box.

“Thanks, Mason.”

“Anytime, and hey after we’re done with this maybe we could—” he strained to actually be able to see her, as the box was blocking most of his vision, but she was already gone.

He dutifully delivered the box to Artie as instructed. He’d lost sight of Jane entirely, so he decided to look for more things to help out with. There was hay everywhere, in piles big and small, so Mason didn’t even notice Spencer’s foot until he stepped on it.

“Ow,” he cried, reflexively pulling back his leg, “Watch where you’re going, McCarthy.”

Spencer was reclined on some bales of hay, with others piled on top of each other on his side, shielding him completely from the rest of the glee club’s view. He was engrossed on the game he was playing on his phone.

“You know, when they asked us to come here, it was to help with the wedding.”

“I think I’m much better help like this. My involvement in decorating would make this barn even uglier,” he said,”It seems like an impossible accomplishment, but believe me I do not have a gift for this stuff.”

 “Well, you could help with the boxes. Or with all the hay they’re having Tina drag around everywhere.”

 “Who’s Tina?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

In the three days since the locker room incident, no one noticed anything different about him or Spencer, not even when they came into class or glee, one a few steps behind the other, red-faced and out of breath. They hadn’t even noticed the purplish blotch peeking out from the neckline of his Cheerios uniform—one among other better hidden ones. When he knew he was going to be spending most of his day with the people from glee, he made sure to wrap a scarf around his neck before leaving the house. Unfortunately it was hot and damp inside the barn. He ended up taking it off after feeling the scratchy beginnings of a scarf rash. Now, every couple of minutes he’d nervously adjust his plaid hoodie,bringing it up ever so slightly. If only he had long hair like Madison’s. He unconsciously chuckled at thought of himself having long, flowing waves, that being a Cheerio, he’d probably have to tie into a tight, high ponytail.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking of how I’d look with one of those tube-like ponytails the Cheerios always have to wear.”

“I don’t know about tube-like ponytails, but guys with long hair are hot,” Spencer shrugged.

 “You should let yours grow, you’d look like the cover of one of those cheesy romance novels.”

 “I’d become even _more_ unbearably hot,” he said,”I probably would actually have to ward people off with a stick.”

“ _Oh God_ ,” Mason groaned as he pictured Spencer with long hair that went past his shoulders, with a halfway unbuttoned shirt, smouldering. “Please don’t let your hair ever reach Fabio's level.” Spencer laughed.

“You’re just jealous of my future glowing blonde locks.”

“Shut up, and come help out.” Mason said playfully as he reached out and pulled Spencer by the arm.

“All right, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Mason bit down on his lip to keep himself from making an immature joke.

 

  

\----

 

 

They called it a day by six in the afternoon. It was already dark out. They had made some progress, but the barn was nowhere near ready for a wedding. Ms.Berry and her friends hung around for a little longer and the new kids piled into the twins’ car. it was cramped in the back, where Mason sat between Jane and Spencer. Mason had to lean forward a little so that they could fit. Everyone was singing along to some top 40s song that Mason couldn’t identify because Spencer kept slowly running his fingers up and down his thigh.

"Stop it," Mason mouthed, not actually wanting him to stop.

Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in something quickly. He turned the screen to Mason. ‘My parents aren’t home, want to come over?”

Mason took the phone from his hands and wrote back: ‘What will I tell my sister?”

'Idk tell her you have to to help me with some glee stuff'

'She's not going to buy it but worth a shot.'  
  
Spencer winked at him.

They dropped off Jane, who lived in a huge, fancy house and then Roderick whose home while decidedly less sophisticated than Jane’s, was cozy looking, with his mom waiting for him at the door, a big smile on her face as he went to kiss her on the cheek before going inside.

There were only the three of them left in the car. Mason hated lying to his sister. Sure, he hadn’t told her he was sneaking around with Spencer, but that was a lie of omission, which was slightly less bad in his opinion.

"Hey Madison, I’m going to Spencer’s to help him out with his glee assignment, is that okay?"

"Why does he need help with that?"

"Oh it’s um, some vocal range stuff," Mason said, rather unconvincingly.

"Gotta be in top form for sectionals, you know?" Spencer added helpfully.

"I see you two together a lot these days. But I guess you should help him. He needs it if we’re going to win." Madison said, never taking her eyes off the road. She didn’t intend to sound mean, she was always blunt like that. Mason saw Spencer open his mouth, probably to protest what his sister had just said, but he seemed to decide against it, nodding instead. "Maybe I should go with you—"

"No!" Mason said, maybe a little too quickly. "We can handle it, right Spencer? There’s really no need to drag you into this."

"Oh no, I’d be happy to help!"

"Sorry, but I only told my parents one person was coming. They can be kind of annoying with unexpected guests." Spencer told her apologetically. Spencer was a terrific liar, apparently, and very quick on his feet.

"Well that’s too bad," Madison pouted, "I think I would’ve been great help. Me and Mason have been performing since we were three, you know?"

Madison left them in front of Spencer’s place. He lived in a typical suburban house, the kind with a garden that looked cared for and a white picket fence. She didn’t drive away until both of the went in.

"Call me if there are any emergencies okay, Mace?" She said, a concerned maternal tone heavy in her voice, right before driving away. Mason gave her a thumbs up and waved goodbye.

“Does she alway act like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like she _birthed_ you.” Spencer replied, as he let them in the house.

Mason had never really thought about that, it had been that way his whole life. His sister watching out for him. She’d always been the more responsible and mature one out of the two. She was the one that told him to pick up his socks and do his homework. Ever since they were twelve, when their parents weren’t around, Madison would cook for both of them, with Mason happily playing sous-chef. When they were little and Mason was terrified of the dark, Madison would crawl out of the top bunk and lie next to him until he fell asleep. He still remembered how she had bought him those glow in the dark stars and how they’d spent the afternoon arranging them in to constellations and sticking them all over their shared bedroom. After that, he’d never been afraid of the dark again. He owed a lot to his sister.

Spencer’s house was warm with its yellow walls and wooden furniture. An earthy sandalwood scent filled the house. It smelled a little bit like Spencer himself.

Spencer took them up to his room, past several pictures of him as a child and his parents when they were still young. He looked a lot like his mom, with his wide-set eyes and plump lips. Both his parents were beautiful in an effortless way, much like their son. 

“So this is my room,” Spencer said, “It’s kind of a mess.”

The room was almost all navy blue and white. There were clothes scattered throughout, as well as loose papers and empty, open video game cases. 

“Why do you have a cereal box in your room?”

“ _Night cereal_ , dude.” Spencer replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And people thought Mason was weird.

 Spencer sat down on his bed, prompting a loud squeak from the mattress springs. He grabbed Mason by his hips and brought him closer.

 “So,” Spencer began,”How weird is it to not be in a public place for once?”

 “ _Very_.” Mason placed his hand on the back of Spencer’s neck, feeling the slight prickliness of his hair. Mason bent down and kissed him. He still hesitated when he kissed Spencer. The first one was always shy peck on the  lips, the kind of kiss that reminded him of the way people often wanted to make assertive statements but their self-consciousness made them punctuate everything with a question mark, always ending their sentences with a slight lilt in their voice. Spencer responded by pulling him with a forcefulness that had both of them toppling over onto the bed.  

Mason was on top of Spencer, knees on either side of the other boy’s body. He grabbed Spencer’s jaw and pulled him into a much more confident kiss this time. Spencer was all rushed, messy making out, but unless they only had five minutes in a broom closet right before class, Mason liked to take his time, he liked the build-up—something that frustrated Spencer to no end, he was sure. He kissed Spencer’s lower lip. Spencer parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but  Mason didn’t comply—he kissed the corner of his open mouth, eliciting  grumble from him.

“You’re literally the biggest freaking tease,” Spencer breathed.

“Yeah, well, you’re too impatient.” Mason kissed the other corner of his mouth.

“I don’t disagree,” Spencer said, as he tugged at the zipper of Mason’s hoodie—it seemed it was stuck, “God, even your clothes are like you.” Spencer threw himself back onto his pillow in overdramatic frustration.

“You can’t just try and yank the zipper off!” Mason said as he deftly dragged the zipper down and removed his hoodie, throwing it to the floor. “ _See?"_  

Spencer pulled at the stretchy fabric of the neckline of Mason’s shirt. He reached out and thumbed the darkish mark he’d left above his collarbone. “So that’s why you had that scarf on today.” It was an observation, but he sounded distracted, busy tracing the outline of the unappealing patch he’d left on Mason’s skin with his finger.

“Yeah.”

The expression on Spencer’s face changed briefly, into something resembling disappointment. It was a quick shift, one Mason probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t inches away from Spencer’s face. Disappointment was an emotion that Spencer rarely showed—his repertoire of facial expressions consisted mostly of annoyed or smug looks that varied in intensity. Mason would later learn that, as an extension of being a very convincing liar, Spencer was fantastic at not showing his feelings, unlike Mason who had to work very hard if he wanted to hide them. Usually he’d bury himself in a tub of Ben & Jerry’s. He’d even come up with a system where each flavour had a corresponding emotion— _Cherry Garcia_ for mild sadness, _Half Baked_ for regular sadness and _Chunky Monkey_ , which was reserved for truly dire situations.

Spencer began to lift up the hem Mason’t shirt. Mason removed it and threw it on top of the discarded hoodie. Spencer ran his hands down Mason’s torso, which made him wonder if all boys’ hands felt like this—slightly clumsy and rough on the skin, but not in a bad way. Spencer grabbed him by the waist and flipped them over so that he was on top. He took his own shirt off. Mason still couldn’t tell if he felt horny or jealous or both from looking at the clearly defined lines of Spencer’s body—from the abs to the hipbones. Mason was already hard in his jeans and when Spencer thrust his hips forward, he instinctively responded by jerking up his own. That single bit of friction brought out a low moan from him.

“I think it’s my turn to get you off, huh?” Spencer said. He propped himself on his knees. Mason let out a small whine from the sudden lack of contact.

Spencer unbuttoned Mason’s jeans with one swift move—much like the straight guys that had a lot practice with girls could unhook their bras without any trouble, Mason noted. With some wiggling and some tugging they managed to remove Mason’s skinny jeans, then the slightly-damp-from-precome briefs. Mason’s dick was flushed pink and swollen. He felt entirely too exposed, naked and lying on Spencer’s bed.

Spencer wrapped his fingers around him, with a sureness Mason lacked when doing these things, stroking and smearing precome all over his dick. Spencer’s hand ably pumped him, the squeeze of it on sensitive skin making Mason's grip on the bedsheets tighten. The feeling of someone else jerking him off was a heightened, _much better_ version of when he did it himself. He could see his chest rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier. Spencer began to stroke him faster, and the stiffness of his dick was becoming unbearable. He was going to come, he knew by the clench of his thighs and from the way his stomach sank low.

“God, I’m going to—” Before he could finish his sentence, Spencer scooted back, bent down and sealed his lips around his dick pushing it into his mouth, steadily, in a warm suck. _Oh, God._ If getting jerked off by someone was the next level to doing it himself, he had no idea where he’d place getting blown by someone (and by Spencer, of all people!). He wished he wasn’t right on the edge of coming, that they could stay like this for a while longer. With the aid of his hand, it took Spencer three more pumps until Mason could feel every muscle in his body tense up. His eyelashes fluttered and everything went hazy. His dick slid off Spencer’s mouth, both sticky with his come. He felt dizzy and tingly and not present. Spencer leaned forward and kissed him urgently and passionately—tasting his own come was the strangest thing. Spencer had his hands cupped under Mason’s jaw. They stared into each other’s eyes and it almost felt like intimacy.

 “Come on, my turn,” Mason said, breaking eye contact, in an attempt to shake off that crazy thought. What they had was not romantic, Spencer had made it clear from the start with all that talk about strings and labels, and so had he. So why did he feel so hollow? 

 


	4. It’s A Risk To Even Fall In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not so much a chapter as it is part of a chapter, so let's call this chapter 4a or something. I really wanted to update. I'll try and get the rest up tomorrow!  
> <3

Mason woke up startled and disoriented. He’d fallen asleep at Spencer’s, apparently. He craned his neck to to be able to see the alarm clock on the bedside table. 5:05 a.m. Spencer curled around him, his big arm weighing heavy on Mason’s waist. It was nice, having someone else be the big spoon for once. He felt warm and protected, like nothing could ever get him. Sort of like the way children fell asleep gripping their stuffed animals tightly in their arms—as if they were completely invulnerable to anything by doing so. Spencer was snoring lightly, he could feel his breathing on the back of his neck. They hadn’t showered and his underwear felt kind of gross, as did the faint smell of sweat and come and _sex_ surrounding them. But despite that, he didn’t want to get out of bed, so he closed his eyes and let himself drift off peacefully. This was the first time he didn’t replay what had happened with Jane in Spencer’s place.

When he woke up again, Spencer was no longer there. He had, however, been covered from feet to chin with Spencer’s sheets. _How sweet of him_ , he thought. With some difficulty, he sat up on the bed, eyes squinted at the light that shone through the blinds’ thin cracks. He reached for his phone, which had ended up by the foot of the bed, somehow. He had seven missed calls from his sister.

“ _Crap_ ,” he muttered to himself. She was going to have so many questions for him.

 “Hey, you’re up.” Spencer poked his head through the door, he was in his boxers and holding what seemed to be an adorable hand-painted mug.

 “Morning.”

 “Your sister called you like, five times.” 

 “Seven, actually.”

 “Oh, you’re in trouble,” Spencer said, dragging out the last word like a second grader would.

 “Shut up,” Mason said with laugh, flinging a nearby pillow at Spencer’s head.

 “Hey! Coffee!” He shouted, pointing to the mug in his hands.

“Oh, can you make me some? And can you lend me something to wear? I don’t want my sister to see jizz stains on my shirt.”

“Yeah, sure.” Spencer said, leaving his mug on top of the armoire to look for clothes. He rummaged through the bottom drawer, “I assume you’ll be needing underwear as well?”

“I’ll wash everything before I give it back, but don’t you think its kinda gross to give you back your underwear after I’ve worn it?”

 “Your dick was literally in my mouth hours ago. I think you wearing my boxers, washing them and giving them back is not going to kill me,” Spencer said, as he tossed him the clothes, “Bathroom’s down the hall if you want to shower.”

Mason lazily made his way to the bathroom. There was no point in rushing, his sister was probably already angry with him. 

As he left the water running, waiting for it to warm up, he looked at himself in the mirror. A ‘hot mess’ was the term that best described his appearance that morning. His curls were somehow both flat and frizzy, his eyes puffy from having just woken up _and was that dried up come or drool on his chin?_ Either way, i _ck_. He removed his clothing and jumped in the shower.He sniffed the first bottle of body wash he saw—definitely Spencer’s. It was oddly comforting to have that scent on him. He lathered it on slowly, letting the musky fragrance to spread through the whole bathroom. After he was done rinsing for the last time, he reached for the towel only to realize there was none. He didn’t want to call Spencer. Even though they’d already seen each other nakedit felt weird to have Spencer see him showering. He considered using toilet paper. _Toilet paper? Gross, Mason what is wrong with you?_    

“Spencer?” he called, “Spence?”

There was knock on the door. “Yeah?”

“Can you get me a towel, please?”

“Sure.” There was some shuffling sounds that grew distant and then returned in heavy stomps. “I’m opening the door!” Spencer announced.

“Wait, don’t look—”Before he could finish his sentence, Spencer was already in the bathroom, a fuzzy orange towel in his hands. He immediately covered his face with it.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“It’s just that I look terrible, probably.”

“No you don’t.”

 

 

————

 

 

_ You never look terrible. That was what he wanted to say. _

“Thanks.” Mason took the towel from Spencer, who was unsure of whether the ‘thanks’ was for the towel of for what he had said. It didn’t really matter, but he wanted to know. Mason wrapped the ugly orange thing around his waist. His hair was wet and sticking tohis face is dark swirls. Due to the hot water his flushed pink cheeks stood out, bright against his pale skin. How could he think he looked terrible?

“Spencer? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” he stopped and placed his hand on the the back of Mason’s neck, his skin slick from the water, and pulled him into a kiss. Mason made a little surprised noise, but kissed back. Then he pulled away and said, “You look good.” The small, shy smile his comment got out of Mason would stay with him for the rest of the day.

Spencer returned to the kitchen. He slipped two pieces of wholewheat bread into the toaster slots and poured the steaming coffee into a mug he’d carefully selected. He’d picked the nicest one he had, one with an intricate floral design on it. For some reason, he didn’t want to give Mason one those plain mugs you got in a set of five for twenty dollars at Target just to fill your cupboard . 

In perfectly timed fashion, Mason entered the kitchen as the pieces of toast popped out accompanied by a loud ding. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you buy your shirts a couple of sizes too small, I mean look at this!” Mason said, studying the black and grey shirt Spencer had lent him, “It fits me well! When you wore it, I swear you could see every single line and bump in your body!”

“So, you were checking me out.”

“No!” Mason said, his cheeks turning almost as red as they had been in the bathroom, “I just meant that—”

“ _I’m kidding, dude._ ”

“Oh! You made breakfast for me?” Mason said, a surprised look on his face, as he noticed the the plate and mug on the counter. 

“Yeah,” Spencer took the still hot bead slices and set them on the plate. Next to it he placed a tub of cream cheese.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“So, do you do this to all your conquests?” Mason asked, and he spread a ridiculous amount of cream cheese on what now, in comparison, seemed like a flimsy slice of bread.

Was that a trick question? Was Mason trying to see where they stood? To see if he was more than just a conquest to Spencer? Did he want to be more? Or was he saying it as a joke? Spencer pretended not to hear him.

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to have more cheese than you have bread,” Spencer said quickly, in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Who are you, _Madison_?” Mason said playfully, slowly shoving a large chunk of bread in his mouth, taunting him. He didn’t repeat his question. Maybe he didn’t want it answered, after all. Them, in Spencer’s kitchen, talking over breakfast just felt so scarily domestic—Spencer couldn’t really blame Mason if he wanted know about where they stood. In a little over a week, what had initially seemed like black and white terms increasingly felt more on the grey side, at least to him. He wouldn’t mind being more, but he felt like Mason was asking him because he didn’t want that and didn’t want Spencer to get the wrong idea. The primary object of Mason’s affection was Jane, after all. While Spencer was a short entertaining stop along the way, Jane was the destination, the endgame. He’d known that from the start. He thought he preferred it that way, even. But being someone’s second choice was starting to eat at him, this unnerving feeling that crawled under his skin—ever-present and growing, slow and steady, until one day it’d be too much. It was a strange feeling, something he’d never experienced before. He didn’t like it.

Mason hummed contently as he ate, oblivious to the way Spencer had blanked out, or the way his features contorted into something harsher. Spencer thought about how he could just break things off with Mason and spare himself all this frustration. He also thought about how he didn’t want to do that. There was just something about him that had such a hold on Spencer. It had been little more than a week and they hardly had a any form of a relationship—platonic or otherwise—outside of the screwing, and yet he felt like he had so much to lose. 

Spencer watched as Mason finished the last of his coffee, his face scrunching up at first as he drank it but then settling into a small pleased smile. 

“Thanks for breakfast, I should get going.” Mason said with a sigh,”If you don’t see me at school, it’ll be because Madison killed me.”

“Okay.” Spencer said, a coolness in his voice that made Mason furrow his brows a little bit in confusion.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself? When are your parents coming home?”

“Now who sounds like Madison?”

“We’re twins, what did you expect?”

“My parents will be home sometime. I don’t know. They take these trips a lot. Sometimes I don’t know if it’s for their enjoyment or if it’s to not deal with me. Or both.” Spencer loved his parents, they had been accepting of him being gay but at the same time didn’t seem to know how to handle it, choosing to avoid the whole thing instead.

 “ _Oh._ ” Mason mouthed, he had a sympathetic look on his face, like he truly understood. He gave Spencer’s arm a little squeeze. Spencer didn’t know why he’d confessed this to someone he barely knew. Something told him he could trust Mason, with the way he looked at him with this warmth that seemed to be so intrinsically part of who he was, not at all forced. Spencer was not naturally warm like that. “I understand what you mean. My parents weren’t always there when me and Madison were growing up either. That’s why we’re so close. Besides the twin thing. Which is why I hate it so much when people make all those little jokes about me and Madison. I pretend I don’t mind them, but they hurt. It’s just so awful what they keep insinuating. _She’s my sister!_ I would never! _You_ know that, right?”

 “Of course I do.”

 Mason looked at him, studying him for any signs of sarcasm, he assumed. When he found none, he leaned in and gave Spencer a kiss on the cheek. 

 “I’ll see you at school then?”

 “Yeah.”

 


	5. So, When You Give That Look To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much like part 2 of the other chapter which is why it's so short. It's a little angsty. Hope you dudes like it!

They didn’t see each other much that week. Glee had been canceled because Rachel thought it’d be a better idea to work out wedding details in the choir room instead of coaching them for Sectionals. 

Mason and him would sneak off when they could. They had been in the astronomy classroom twice, but mostly they’d end up talking, which was different. Conversation had suddenly become more common for them than screwing. And when they did do other things they’d never go past hand and mouth stuff. Mason had told him he wasn’t ready to go that far. Spencer didn’t really mind, as he’d started to, albeit reluctantly, realize that he enjoyed Mason’s company more than he enjoyed the sex.

When the big wedding day finally arrived, the glee kids went in their usual form of transportation—the McCarthy car. Mason looked very nice, in an unconventional burgundy suit and contrasting blue tie. His hair had been straightened and pushed to the side. Jane complimented him on it. Spencer liked it better when it was all curly.

The barn had miraculously transformed into something you would see in a magazine, rustic and delicate and cozy all at once. There were lots of people there, slowly trickling into the place, all of them dressed fancily with what seemed like a cloud of hairspray and cologne following their every move. 

Jane slid her arm around Mason’s. He looked surprised but happy, his lips spreading into a wide grin. His gaze turned to floor, shyly. When Mason looked at Jane you could almost see little cartoon hearts appear in his eyes or circling his head in dizzying lovesick fashion. Mason’s way of carrying himself was very different when he was around Jane—he stood a little straighter and talked a lot more nervously, starting sentences that ended in a flustered rambling of words. Jane seemed to find it charming—smiling and laughing and responding in a way that was a touch too coy to be platonic. Spencer didn’t know if Mason realized this, but he had a shot with Jane. Jane was interested in him as much as he was in her. Spencer could tell. He hoped Mason couldn’t. It was selfish of him, but he had never claimed to be otherwise.

Mercedes and Artie sung “ _At Last_ ”, a touching rendition, that sent chills down his spine. It made Spencer feel this creeping sense of nostalgia in that unique way that only a beautiful song and an equally beautiful voice could. He had no idea what he felt nostalgic for, or why, but there was that weird tightening in his chest that was an overwhelming mix of comfort and sadness. And then it hit him— the reason he felt that way was because for the first time he’d seen Mason and Jane together, with his own eyes. 

He had known whatever he had with Mason was bound to be fleeting, but he hadn’t realized how quickly it would slip away from him. He thought they’d have more time, and in the back of his brain, though he’d admit it no one—not even himself—he thought in that time Mason would end up liking him back. He shook off the feeling the best he could, he was too prideful to accept that he was that easily affected by someone, too prideful to consider the possibility of having someone break his heart.Because maybe he didn’t want _‘just sex’,_ maybe he wanted more, maybe he wanted Mason to light up when he looked at him the way he did when Jane appeared. 

Spencer was on the football team which brought him automatic popularity, but he didn’t have many friends, not really. There was something always a little off in his relationships with his teammates—much like his parents, they were mostly okay with him being gay and all, just as long as they didn’t have to deal with it directly. He’d built his whole reputation, strategically and carefully, working twice as hard to gain the respect of his teammates and cultivating that air of cold condescension vital to any popular kid in high school. Having Mason around, being able to talk to someone in an unguarded way, had made him realize just how lonely he’d been before, planning and calculating and making sure he kept his status. 

Jane was sitting next to him, smiling and clapping politely when appropriate, downgraded to the same row after Madison had intercepted her and Mason.

Spencer had checked out for most of the reception. He didn’t really care about any of the people getting married and thought that, after what he’d picked up from Madison and Mason’s hushed conversations in Glee, Kurt and too-much-hair-gel getting married was kind of a dumb decision. 

Speeches were given, tears were shed and they all got baseball caps with ‘OTP’ written on them. Madison and Jane joined Artie to sing _‘Heya’,_ which had everyone dancing while Spencer once again sat away from the crowd, tapping his fingers on the table along to the music. He spotted Roderick doing the exact same thing and when they made eye contact, Roderick gave him a sympathetic smile. Who would’ve thought that him and Roderick would ever have anything in common?

Suddenly, two arms hooked under his own, urging him to stand up.

“Come on, Porter,” Mason said excitedly, “You know you want to dance!”

“Oh no, no.” Spencer shook his head.

“Do you need me to to get you a tutu?” Mason teased, “Or was it a petticoat? I can’t remember your preference.”

“Okay, I will dance if you never mention the tutu thing again.”

“But you fought so valiantly for it.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but got up to dance anyways. Mason danced spastically, but not uncoordinatedly. Spencer, on the other hand, was stiff and graceless. Mason didn’t seem to mind or judge, happily letting himself be spun around by Spencer. Any time he had to dance, Spencer would think too much about what to do next, where he would step and how he would move, but Mason was all loose limbs and without a care in the world. Even when he looked a little manic, he was completely unabashed.

“Hey,” Mason said, probably having noticed his rigidness, “You just have to let go like you were doing at Ms.Berry’s, and that’s it. That’s all you need to know to dance.” Mason looked at him encouragingly and slowly swayed him with his hands, which he’d placed firmly on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer did the best he could, following Mason’s movements, but he knew he’d never be able to switch off that part of his brain when it came to dancing. 

“ _Better._ ” Mason told him with a smile, “You’re almost there.”

Spencer knew that for his own good, the best thing to do was to break things off with Mason. He didn’t like having these kinds of feelings for anyone. But Mason was looking at him in that way that sometimes fooled Spencer into believing that Mason felt the same way he did.

Then the song was over and women in colorful fringed outfits, who Spencer assumed were the mothers of the brides and the grooms, took the stage. 

Madison practically leapt off the stage to meet her brother, but she was beat by Jane, who, for once had gotten there first.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jane asked, though her tone was more demanding than anything else.

“Um, yeah. Go ahead,” Spencer said in the most unaffected tone he could muster. Mason looked at him apologetically and followed Jane to the dancefloor.

Madison watched them, eyes narrowed and her pretty face twisted into a scowl. If he had less control over his facial expressions, he’d probably be sporting a similar one to Madison’s. Spencer stood in the ring of people surrounding the more courageous dancers that had joined together in the middle of the dancefloor. Jane and Mason were two of them. Spencer observed them—how they danced together with such ease, laughing and moving breezily, singing along to the music. Mason and Jane just fit so well together. And they were clearly interested in each other. So maybe it was time for Spencer to step out. For both their sakes.

Shortly after (one performance later to be exact), the wedding was over, and everyone poured out of the barn and into their respective cars. The New Directions crammed themselves into the small, borderline claustrophobic car. They were all tired—there was just something about weddings that was so draining. Jane rested her head on Mason’s shoulder and Spencer could feel Mason tense up beside him. Spencer looked out the window all the way home.

 

\---- 

 

He was just about to go to bed, when his phone began to ring. _Who even called anyone anymore?_ He looked at the name on the screen. It was Mason.

“Hey.”

_“_ Hi, Spencer. We need to talk.” Everyone knew that nothing good ever followed _‘we need to talk’_. It was an unspoken universal rule.

“What’s up?”

“God, I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure how you’re supposed to do it, but um,” Mason’s voice was muffled and a little shaky through the phone, “I think we should stop. You know, doing what we’ve been doing.”

Spencer had been considering calling Mason himself to end things, and it happening the other way around would ultimately result in the same thing, but it felt like such a blow to him anyways. It wasn’t surprising. Especially after the wedding. But it still made him feel hurt and angry and wronged. It wasn’t Mason’s fault—they’d clearly established that they could stop whenever they wanted to—yet Spencer blamed him, even when he knew he’d agreed to those terms. _Hell, he’d created the terms._

“Okay, sure. Whatever.” 

“You’re not mad, right? It’s just that I really think I have a shot with Jane and—”

“I’m not mad.”

“Great, then um, I hope we can still be friends and all. Even without the benefits.” Mason laughed nervously.

“Well, we weren’t really friends to begin with.” Spencer said, in the iciest tone he could manage. “See you in glee club.” Spencer hung up before Mason could get another word in. He slipped into his bed, burying himself in the sheets and tried to ignore the faint smell of Mason that still lingered. 

 


	6. I’m Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's driving me nuts trying to join this fic with canon. So here's this little chapter while I try to figure out how to integrate this into Child Star and also try to get my academic shit together (seriously, college is killing me).

Mason had tried to catch Spencer several times at school the following week. He hadn’t heard a word from him since their brief conversation over the phone. Spencer had sounded angry and Mason wanted to talk to him. Mason had thought he’d take it all with shrug—Spencer had never seemed like a long term commitment kind of guy—but perhaps he’d been wrong.

Every time he saw Spencer, he either sped through the hallways, pretending he hadn’t seen Mason, or he’d been surrounded by the impenetrable fortress that were his football buddies.

If they hadn’t been spending so much time together, he would’ve brushed off the coldness in Spencer’svoice during their conversation as him just being, well, him. But he knew better by now.

It wasn’t just hard getting Spencer alone, but himself as well. Madison knew something was up, cornering him every time he went to look for Spencer.Madison was a fantastic dancer and singer, but her biggest gift was her fine-tuned Spidey sense when it came to Mason. He had a feeling she already knew what was up, but was pretending not to, and expecting him to tell her himself. Although they had a strong near telepathic connection, Mason did not have Madison’s level of _twintuiton_ —as they liked to call it. And he was running out of excuses to her at bay.

“Mason, I know something is up. You’ve been acting weird for the past weeks but you’re acting even _weirder_ now!” She pleaded him to tell her what was happening many times, but Mason, despite almost caving most of said times, never budged.

On Thursday, after school and all other extracurriculars were over, Mason decided to give the locker rooma try. Spencer usually stayed there until later. He had to be quick because his sister was waiting for him in the car. She’d looked dubious when he’d told her he’d forgotten some things in his locker. _“Again?”_ She’d asked him suspiciously, eyebrow arched.

Sure enough, Spencer sat on the edge of the bench, with a very large weight in each hand. Mason cleared his throat loudly. Spencer jumped a little.

_“Dude_ ,” he said, “You’ve got to stop doing that.” Spencer didn’t turn to look at him—his gaze was completely fixed on the wall in front of him. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you.”

“About?” 

“We haven’t talked since my phone call. You sounded mad. And you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Hey, remember when _I_ confronted you about something like that and you called me arrogant and paranoid?” Spencer said, his voice heavy with disdain. 

“Look, I just wanted to see how everything was, okay?”

“Everything is _great_.” Spencer almost seemed to spit out that last word.

“So, you’re telling me _this_ ,” Mason wagged his finger in Spencer’s general direction, “Isn’t mad.” 

“Yeah, it isn’t mad. You know why?” Spencer laid the weights in his hands on the floor and got up to look Mason in the eye. “Because _this_?” He mimicked Mason’s gesture. “Was just a momentary thing. I needed to get my fix, and you were there. What, did you think I wanted to hold hands and take you out to _Breadstix_ or something? Do you think you mean that much to me? Are you _that_ full of yourself?” Spencer scoffed.

Mason didn’t know what to say. He knew Spencer could be mean, but not like this. Not so cruel. And it made him feel like such an idiot for ever getting together with him. He felt his lip quiver, so he bit into it to keep it still. He wasn’t going to show any signs of weakness, not when that was precisely what Spencer wanted him to do.

“ _Screw you._ ” Mason hissed—hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky and he felt—as he turned to leave, “You know, when people said you were a complete dick, I never really believed them. But I can see they were right, after actually talking to you.” Mason said shaking his head.

“You did more than just talk to me, Mace.” Spencer called after him, with a smug look on his face, probably.

Mason didn’t bother to turn back, he just gripped at the straps of his backpack a little tighter and was out the door. He wanted to cry—not out of sadness, but out of anger and frustration and because of how pathetic he felt. He’d never thought Spencer saw him as a potential boyfriend or anything, nor had he wanted him to, but he thought he saw Mason as a person, at least. Not as something so _disposable. So insignificant_. Spencer’s words had been harsh and cutting, like a knife. Instead, Mason let out a laugh—the sort that you let out when you don’t know how else to react, when you have so many pent up emotions, desperate to be released, that they just bubble up into this miserable sort of laughter. 

He got in the car without saying a word.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Mason, _please_ tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you. I’m your sister.” She looked at him, a concerned expression on her face. Her eyes were shiny and pleading, like she was about to cry because her little brother just wouldn’t tell her what was happening to him and what she needed to fix to make it better.

“It’s fine. Really. _It’s going to be fine now_.”

 

\-----

 

Spencer couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned but to no avail. When he’d said those things to Mason, he hadn’t been thinking clearly—his ego had been bruised and he didn’t want to talk about it. Mason seemed insistent on doing it though, pressing and pressing him for answers he did not want to give. Spencer didn’t want Mason thinking he had that big of an effect on him, and so he’d snapped and said all the wrong things, denying his anger but probably coming across otherwise. Spencer never had been good at maintaining his cool. The look on Mason’s face when he’d hurled all those vicious words at him wouldn’t leave his brain. It made his stomach turn. Spencer had always had a knack for hitting where it stung the most, a talent for pinpointing people’s vulnerabilities. It wasn’t always on purpose, it was just an automatic response to whenever he was feeling even remotely threatened. Maybe he’d wanted to hurt Mason a _little_ , but only after the words left his mouth had he realized how awful they were.

Despite his fragile pride, Spencer decided he should apologize. He had no idea how to do this as he’d never apologized to anyone for anything he’d done.

The next morning, before classes started, he saw Mason struggling with his locker combination. His hair was once again straightened and stiffly styled, much like at the wedding. Mason’s locker was one of the very few ones near the computer lab, in the less crowded hallways of McKinley High. He’d told Spencer his old one had been near the locker rooms, but he’d requested a switch due to the smell of ‘ _unwashed jockstrap and teenage boy sweat_ ’ becoming too much to handle on a daily basis. Spencer decided to approach him.

“Hey.” Spencer said, his nervousness only slightly shining through.

“I’m not talking to you. Go away.”

“ _Mace—_ ”

“Don’t call me that.” Mason warned. “People I like get to call me that.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was way out of line yesterday.”

“Sorry’s just not going to cut it.” Mason gave up on his locker, probably wanting to get out of the conversation more than he did his textbooks. 

He began to walk away when Spencer said, “I didn’t mean what I said. I was mad. You were right. Well, kind of.”

Mason stopped, his posture stiffened.

“But I wasn’t mad over what you probably thought I was mad about.” A blatant lie. He had been angry over being passed over for Jane, for not having a chance to have his relationship with Mason progress. But Mason didn’t need to know that.

“What do you mean?” Mason said, finally turning to face him. He looked intrigued.

“I mean, I didn’t get pissed because you broke things off with me to be with Jane. I got pissed because _you_ were the one to break things off.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. “I thought I had the upper hand.” It was such a crappy thing to say, but coming from him it was believable, and for Spencer, it was infinitely better than confessing your feelings to someone who didn’t return them.

“ _Gee, thanks._ ”

“I’m just used to being the one to end things.” Spencer shrugged. “So are we cool?” Spencer almost cringed at what he’d said. He had wanted to keep Mason at arm’s length for his own sake, and now he’d gone and made that much harder. It was worth not having Mason think he was a complete turd—he couldn’t bear the thought of Mason hating him—but he knew how much easier it would’ve been that way. 

“No. Not yet, at least. I need some time to think about it.”

“ _I said I was sorry._ ”Spencer was trying to keep his short-tempered tendencies in check, but the incredulous irritation in his voice had worked its way through. He had apologized. What more did Mason want? Did he want him to grovel? Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that. He wanted his forgiveness but he didn’t want to have to beg for it.In his egotism, Spencer would never let something like that happen, it had already been so hard to put his pride aside and apologize.

“And I heard you. I don’t think insulting the person you are apologizing too during your apology helps your case.” Mason walked towards him as he spoke, his eyes narrowed. “It’s been one day. I remember everything you said very clearly. If you think that terrible apology makes up for it, your sense of entitlement is just off the charts.”

They were standing close, and although completely inappropriate given the situation, Spencer wanted to grab Mason by his the shirt and pull him into a kiss. Spencer’s gaze automatically dropped to Mason’s lips. Mason’s breathing grew heavier. They hadn’t had such little space between them in a while. He wanted to walk away, pissed off over Mason not accepting his apology and not speak to him again, yet he also wanted to lean in and _french the crap out of him_. It had been about a week since they’d last been together but he already missed how Mason smelled, how he felt, how he tasted. He wanted to take him into the nearest supply closet and screw him senseless. And then they’d talk afterwards, as they had gotten so used to doing. Sometimes the talking was the best part. 

Now here he was, almost touching Mason, but unable to. Inches away from the boy he’d grown so attached to, but who in turn had pulled himself away from Spencer with depressing ease. And Spencer had made everything worse, completely shattering whatever remaining connection they had because he was too proud to admit his feelings, because of his need to assert himself as the one in control.

Despite having called Spencer out all riled up, Mason looked at him with a sadness in his eyes, urging him to say something, anything. The words began to form in Spencer’s head, but he couldn’t get them out, they seemed to catch at the back of his throat. 

“I have to go to class.” Mason said, finally.

“Fine.” 

 


	7. Anxious Like The Ocean In A Storm (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of this chapter. Currently working on part two! I split 'em because this takes place around "Child Star" which is is the ep that most prominently features the newbies so there's A LOT of things to cover.

            Several days passed since their exchange in the hallway. They weren’t by any means okay—they sat far apart in the choir room and only talked when absolutely necessary—but with Sectionals quickly approaching, the animosity was being forced out of the way in favor of preparing for the big competition. They both wanted to win so they made an effort to not be openly hostile towards one another.

Jane and him and been talking a lot and with each passing day, Spencer’s hurtful words packed less of a sting. Had he forgiven Spencer? Not really. And he wouldn’t until Spencer actually apologized to him. However, he thought he could try and forget it. Act like the last month and half had never happened. It was probably the most collectively beneficial approach. But did he want to put it all behind him?

He’d see Spencer sometimes, and everything would come back to him in a jolt—and not just the bad stuff that had had gone down between them, but the good too. In fact, more often, he thought of the good stuff. People had a way of looking back at things through rose tinted glasses—the more distant the memory, the more scrubbed up it became, all the rough, difficult edges of it buffed off, leaving only the polished, smoothed out pleasant parts to be remembered with fondness. The truth was, he did miss Spencer despite everything. And just because he wanted to be with Jane, it didn’t mean that part of him didn’t want to be with him too. That had never occurred to him before, to consider that he might have feelings for Spencer. Perhaps his brain had completely shut that idea out to spare him the heartbreak—if their hallway interaction had proven anything, it was that Spencer didn’t want anything romantic. _But god, they had that spark._ Not in a cutesy way, no, it was the sort of electricity that coursed through your veins, that made you pulse quicken instantly, that made you want to know and explore every bit of the other person’s body. Surely one didn’t often find someone that could leave them completely undone just by standing close to them.

Mason thought him and Jane had a spark too, but in an entirely different way. Jane would make him smile just by being in his vicinity. It was innocent and nice and tingly. She’d have him blushing frequently and stumbling all over his own words. He was hopelessly awkward around her but she seemed to find it kind of endearing. That was what he was more used to experiencing. And he liked Jane a lot. Despite her overly-ambitious nature that could sometimes come across as snooty, she was a good person. He couldn’t say the same about Spencer. So Jane won out. Spencer was too volatile. The way he had snapped at Mason? No way he could deal with someone so…Explosive. But he’d also always gotten his relationship with Madison, had never laughed at or cracked one of the incest jokes, he’d always make sure Mason was okay with whatever they were doing before anything else, not once even pressing him for something out of his comfort zone. Maybe he couldn’t be with him, but he didn’t want him out of his life either.

Perhaps he had to give Spencer another chance. Like, he could test him, touch on their relationship or whatever it was that they had, or his relationship with Jane-which was what had sparked his short fuse the last time-and see how he’d react.

——

  
Spencer still thought about Mason too much. Less now but still not little enough. It had been a while since that whole thing by Mason’s locker and he still felt bad about not apologizing the right way. He was planning on doing it, at some point. As soon as he could swallow his pride. Maybe Mason and him could get a fresh start, he could prove himself to be worthy or whatever. Even if they were just friends for a while. Or friends for the rest of their lives and nothing more. Mason’s absence from his life left him with no one to openly talk to. He could deal with not being able to have sex with him, if he just wanted sex he could easily find someone else. He just wanted to be around Mason because he liked him a lot and it was worth sacrificing screwing for that. Spencer was waiting for the right moment, though. Besides the ego part, he also had to get Mason alone, which was never easy.

—

They were in PE class, preparing for the Presidential Fitness Test. Sue was barking orders through her megaphone, screaming at the sweaty mass of teenage boys. Spencer wasn’t her biggest fan, but the way everything that came out of her mouth was hyperbolically ridiculous entertained him. It made the whole class much less boring. He could just so easily breeze through all those tests. A walk in the park.

Roderick was in the same class. It wasn’t a walk in park for him. He struggled with everything—panting and covered in sweat after going up just a few stairs. Spencer had no idea how someone could reach that point and not try to become healthier. It baffled him that Roderick hadn’t had some kind of wake up call yet. He lugged up the stairs, each step heavier than the one that preceded it. How in the world was he going to follow choreography for Sectionals?

They were paired up for sit-ups and Spencer got some kid named Alistair. He had never heard of any Alistair.

Spencer sat on the edge of the thin, foamy mattress and was joined by his partner and _holy shit Alistair was hot._ He had a strange face and long, red hair he tied back into a ponytail. He wasn’t by any means conventionally attractive, but Spencer was drawn to him. It was the first time he felt any sort of attraction for another boy since he’d met Mason.

The sit-ups seemed to be pretty easy for Alistair, save for the occasional small grunt, he showed little to no signs of struggle. Spencer was blatantly staring at him, giving him the occasional encouraging nod. Alistair was completely focused on his sit-ups, never even looking Spencer in the eye.

They had to climb the rope that hung from the gym’s ceiling. Spencer rubbed the powder on his hands, smacking them together and producing a cloud of white dust. He launched himself at the rope, quickly making his way up. Alistair was staring at him now. Spencer swore he could see something happen between them right there. Mason had taken quite s toll on him; he could use an actual light fling. He needed something a little less emotionally exhausting. He spent the rest of the class thinking of ways to approach Alistair, until he was interrupted by Sue’s commanding voice.

"Hey, look everyone! It’s Puffy’s turn!" She half-yelled. She was talking about Roderick. Spencer immediately stopped what he was doing to see what was going on. "Come on everybody, gather around!" He was joined by the rest of the class, quickly gathering into a crooked ring around Roderick and the rope.

"Alright Wiggletush, pretend there’s a big bucket of butterscotch pudding at the top of that rope. Go!"

Roderick could hardly position himself properly on the rope, let alone climb it. He was only inches above ground, flailing and contorting himself as he tried to move. He fell and everyone except for Alistair and Spencer laughed. Sue unleashed a string of weight-related insults, making everyone laugh even harder. Though Spencer usually enjoyed her tirades, this one had been a cheap shot. Spencer shoved a couple of the guys to get them to stop laughing.

The bell rang and they were dismissed. Before Alistair could leave, Spencer called him.

"Hey! How come I’ve never seen you around here?"  


“I like to avoid organized sports at all costs. This is the first PE class I’ve been to all year. Only because I have to pass this test or I fail the class.” He shrugged and left. Who hated organized sports?

-

  
Spencer decided to talk to Roderick about his complete inability to do anything that required the teeniest amount of physical strength. He thought he’d sounded encouraging but judging by Roderick’s reaction that had not been the case. People never could handle his brand of tough love.

As Roderick pretty much rolled his eyes and went into class, Spencer noticed that Alistair sat next to him. They seemed to be good friends, even. The little cogs in his brain whirred as and idea began to take form. Roderick was his in. Spencer strode into the classroom, taking his letterman jacket off in the process—he had killer arms, no one could resist those—and went up to Roderick and Alistair’s desk.

"Hey, buddy," he said with faux cheeriness, "I gotta pick up some sheet music from you after class."

Roderick looked confused by all of this.

"Hey man," Spencer nodded at Alistair coolly, “‘Sup? I’m Spencer."

“‘Sup?” Alistair replied looking as confused and uncomfortable as Roderick. Spencer, of course, did not read it that way. He’d never even consider that someone would rebuff his advances. Only Mason had ever done that. Other guys? _Putty in his hands_.

"You’re Alistair, right?"

"Wait, you guys are friends?" Alistair asked dubiously.

Spencer said they were, talking as if Roderick and him spent their afternoons making each other friendship bracelets. He talked about how he was Roderick’s trainer and inspiration, much to Roderick’s chagrin.

"Go ahead." Spencer said as he flexed his arm. "You can touch the guns if you want. Don’t worry. Safety’s on."

And with that last line Alistair was visibly uncomfortable and made some quick excuse to leave. Spencer figured he probably overwhelmed him. It wasn’t every day that you got hit on by someone as attractive as he was.

"What was that? We’re you just flirting with him? _Was that your flirting?_ "

"You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a player like me." Of course Roderick was confused as to what flirting looked like. He’d probably never intentionally done it in his life.

"That," Roderick began, "Was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. If you think that was romantic, then you’re not a player. You’re kind of a creeper." Roderick put his headphones back on, as if signaling Spencer that the conversation was over.

Spencer didn’t wait for Alistair to return, he left and went to his own class. Roderick’s words stayed with him for the rest of the day. Was he really creepy? He’d always thought he was a good flirt. Maybe his looks just always did the work for him, and what came out of his mouth didn’t really matter. Had Mason thought he was a bad flirt? He had been kind of drunk when they hooked up for the first time. Fuck, that was depressing to think about. Just thinking about Mason was depressing. Thinking about probably having made a fool out of himself in front of him made it even worse.

 

  
——-

Mason called the glee guys for a meeting in the locker room. For two reasons: a) he genuinely needed their help to get his sister off his back and b) he wanted to see how Spencer would react to it all. Whether he’d lash out as he had the last time or not.

"Hey, thanks for coming guys." Mason said as he ushered them into the locker room, "I’ve got kind of a weird problem, so I’d prefer it stayed in this room."

"I’ve been trying to talk to Jane a little, lately. ‘Cause she’s really talented and gorgeous. But I’m having some trouble."

"Can I be dismissed?" Spencer said with a sigh. The annoyance in his voice was already palpable. "Women are weird and mysterious creatures, and I’m already bored." He began to move towards the door but Mason stopped him.

"N-No no, listen I wanna take Jane out but my sister is screwing everything up." Spencer didn’t look too happy. Mason could swear he’d seen a flash of hurt in his eyes. He quickly convinced himself that he was hallucinating. Why would Spencer be hurt? Annoyed? Yes. Pissed? Most likely. But _hurt_? That couldn’t possibly be what he’d seen. Spencer had quickly returned to his normal, cocky way of carrying himself and Mason could no longer get a read him anymore.

"Wait, aren’t you guys dating?" Spencer asked, emotionless and caustic.

" _Ha ha_." Mason didn’t really know what else to say. Maybe ‘screw you’ would’ve been more appropriate. Why was Spencer so difficult? Mason knew he’d said that just to hurt him. Spencer knew how much Mason hated those dumb jokes. It had been the topic of conversation several times. It wasn’t him being clueless, it was him being deliberately cruel and Mason couldn’t figure out why. Why did he seem to enjoy hurting him so much? Whatever the reason, it ultimately didn’t matter because if Spencer was going to act this way towards him, then he had proven to Mason how much easier life would be without him in it. He could fully focus on Jane and only Jane now. Yet Mason felt this need to know the reason behind it all, he felt he deserved to know.

"Just kidding, but seriously are you guys dating?" Mason glared at him and continued on about his troubles. Spencer knew about all his parental issues already but didn’t leave for some reason. He asked them both to help him and distract Madison by taking her out. They both said no, Spencer for obvious reasons and Roderick because once again Mason had talked too much and scared someone off.

"Help yourself, ask her to back off so you can score some tail. Simple. And you, you’re going to meet me in the gym after school so I can whip your ass into shape. And then, and then you’re gonna help me get a date with _my boy_." Spencer looked directly at Mason when he said that last part. _His boy?_ Spencer had a boy now? He should’ve expected Spencer to find someone fairly fast, yet somehow it had still taken him by surprise. Who was this boy? And why did Mason feel a pang of jealousy upon hearing those words?

"How did this become about you guys?"

He had no right to feel jealous, he had been the one to break things off, after all—but the green-eyed monster reared its ugly, green head anyways. Jealousy like most feelings was damn near impossible to control. Maybe he’d ask Kitty about this. If there was one person that knew everything about everyone, it was her.


	8. Anxious Like The Ocean In A Storm (Part 2)

_Had Mason been serious?_ Asking him to take his sister out so that he could go out with Jane? It felt a lot like pressing your finger into a fresh bruise. When Mason texted him, Spencer thought it would be the perfect time to apologize as they’d finally be together and alone, but then he saw Roderick going to the locker room as well. He would’ve stayed behind and talked to Mason, but all that Jane talk had just been too much. It was like a trigger to him. The mere mention of Mason and Jane made something in him snap, and then he’d blow up and say things he’d later regret. He knew Madison was a sore spot for Mason and he had gone right for it. He probably hated his guts now. Why did he keep messing up?

 

For their glee assignment they had to split into groups a select a song to perform at that little twerp Myron’s bar mitzvah. He saw Mason turn to Jane, probably wanting to ask her to partner with him, but Madison immediately jumped at him, babbling about gender-reversed duets with the same rapid pace her brother talked in. Jane paired up with Roderick, and Spencer got Kitty by default. No one ever really wanted to get paired up with either of them.

 

Once glee was over, Mason darted after Jane, presumably to get to her before his sister got to him.

 

As much as Spencer wanted to talk to Mason, he had offered to provide personal training services to Roderick.

 

Once again, Roderick wiggled and wiggled, trying to wrap his legs around the rope to no avail. The only reason he was even off the floor was that his knees were bent, leaving him hovering just slightly above ground.

 

Spencer had started off by encouraging him, cheering him on, but he was not a patient guy and after nearly twenty minutes of nothing, it started to show.

 

"Come on, don’t be such a wuss." He said, right before Roderick toppled onto the mattress. "You have the athleticism of a couch cushion."

 

"Okay." Roderick said as he got up. "None of your tough love drill sergeant crap is helping me at all."

 

"Don’t be so sensitive." Spencer groaned.

 

"Sensitive? I’ve been taunted and teased about this kind of thing my entire life." Roderick’s voice cracked a little bit, "Not to mention I’m terrified of heights." Spencer felt bad for being so hard on him, but he believed Roderick could stop with his unhealthy habits. He believed he could pass the test if he just worked for it. If he just tried a little harder. It wasn’t something impossible to change, like him being gay or Rachel being awful.

 

"Sometimes this stuff is ugly." Spencer tried to use his sympathetic voice even though he wasn’t even sure he had one. "When the guys on the football team work out it gets messy and it hurts."

 

"I’m not on the football team!" Roderick snapped.

 

"You know what?" Spencer said, no longer bothering with his tone. "You are absolutely right, because you’re too fat and you’re too lazy!"

 

"You know, this is why my friend doesn’t want to go out with you. No one wants to get close to you cause you’re a dick!" Roderick shouted as he stormed out of the gym.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Spencer shouted back. “Hey, I held up my end of the bargain you better hold up yours!”

 

He could faintly hear Schue,—who had been standing there the whole time, it seemed— ask Roderick if he was okay. He wasn’t going to be if he couldn’t pass the freaking Presidential Fitness Test!

 

What Roderick said hit him hard. Why did Alistair think he was a dick? What had he done to make him think that? Sure, he wasn’t the most patient person—though if this training session with Roderick taught him anything, it was that patience got you nowhere—and he was arrogant, he was aware. But when had he been a dick around Alistair? Then he thought about how Mason was still angry with him for acting like a jerk. TV had taught him the wrong things, apparently. People weren’t attracted to asshole types. At least not the right kind of people. Maybe it was time to work on that.

 

At lunch, he sat with the football team as usual. He saw Mason run up to Roderick. Despite all the clamor surrounding his table, he could still pick up Mason’s breathless babbling. They were going to switch partners so that Mason and Jane could be together. Spencer blanked out after that. He didn’t want to hear more updates on that relationship. He was mostly succeeding with the ignoring until Madison started yelling about not wanting him to pair up with Jane. That makes two of us. And then she kept going on about how Mason had once eaten an entire pack of gummy bears against her advice and gotten diarrhea. The entire cafeteria heard her. Even the jocks winced in sympathy. Mason's face turned beet red. Madison turned on her heel and left, clearly livid. Mason stood there, mouth hanging slightly open. Jane went up to him, and judging by both their faces, the partner exchange was most likely off.

 

As the first step in his attitude overhaul, Spencer decided he should properly apologize to Mason. He had been the one he'd royally screwed up with. Spencer decided to take hold of the opportunity of having Mason sans Madison, and he rushed to him.

 

"Hey." Spencer said. His heartbeat suddenly sped up so much from his nerves, he could hear the throb of it.

 

"Hey." Mason replied dismissively.

 

"Can I talk to you for a minute? In private."

 

"Why?"

 

"Just. _Please_."

 

"Fine." Mason sighed as he let Spencer drag him out of the cafeteria and into the nearest janitor closet. Spencer shut the door behind them. "What do you want?"

 

"I want to apologize. For real, this time."

 

Mason merely folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Mason.

 

"Okay, here goes." Spencer took in a deep breath. Why was this so hard? "I'm really sorry for being a jerk. Things like that come out of my mouth sometimes and I nearly always regret them. I didn't mean to hurt you. And making those comments about you and Madison was a total dick move. You trusted me when you talked to me about that stuff and I really, really messed up and I'm sorry. Honestly."

 

Mason didn't say anything. He kind of just stood there, watching him, so Spencer kept going.

 

"And while we're on this honesty train, I feel like I should tell you this." Spencer wanted to get this part over with s fast as he could. Like ripping off a band aid. He'd never stood a chance with Mason. Mason was so clearly infatuated with Jane. So, he felt like confessing how he'd been feeling would be a relieving lift of the weight on his shoulders. At least Mason would know why he'd acted the way he had. It wasn't like he had anything to lose at this point. "The reason I was so angry when you broke things off with me wasn't because you were the one to do it. Well, it was a little. But it was mostly because I—" He paused to swallow audibly, "I had feelings for you and I didn't know how to deal and I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about it, though. I'm over those. _Really_." It was lie, but he hoped it wouldn't be for long. "And I do want us to be friends. I'm trying to not be such a jerk anymore. Please say something."

 

 

"I—This is a lot to process." Mason said, feeling himself getting flustered. _Why didn't you tell me this sooner? I may have some feelings for you too. Not that I would've realized it if you had confessed your feelings to me before this week._ But I wish you would've just been honest with me. This explained so much. The way Spencer had reacted, the way he'd become so distant. Mason felt awful for having called him to the locker room to deal with his Jane problems and for thinking Spencer was just being heartless for treating him the way he had. It must've taken a lot of courage for Spencer to tell him this. He was one of the most prideful people Mason knew. Had Alistair been the one that made him want to be a better person? He didn't even know who Alistair was, but that prickly feeling of jealousy crept up again, making him automatically, and wrongly, resent him. He felt like a petulant child—only wanting what he could no longer have—but he couldn't help it. "I forgive you."

 

"You do?" Spencer looked up from the floor, surprised.

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

They didn't really know what to do. _Hug? Shake hands? A friendly pat on the shoulder?_ Mason did none of those, instead, and without thinking it through, he cupped Spencer's jaw and kissed him. Not just a peck, but a real kiss. And Spencer kissed him back just as insistently. It sent a charge through Mason's entire body. Spencer had a way of doing that. It was like old times, kind of. Them in the janitor's closet. They didn't separate until they both were out of breath. Spencer's cheeks were red, making him look much younger and more vulnerable than he normally did.

 

"What was that for?" He asked, panting.

 

"Just...One last kiss. For the road." Mason held out his hand. "Friends?"

 

"Friends." Spencer said as he took Mason's hand.

 

And the truth was, Mason didn't really think they could ever be _just friends_ , but he had Jane and now Spencer had Alistair, so they would just have to try.

 


	9. Anxious Like The Ocean In A Storm (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part of the chapter! This is a big one.  
> Sorry for taking so long! Finally covered "Child Star". At least the most important parts. Also, I know this is rated as 'explicit' and I only delivered on that like twice in nine chapters. I apologize for bombarding you with angst instead of sexytimes.

 

Spencer burst into the choir room. He was wearing one of his two-sizes-too-small shirts again. Actually, it wasn’t so much a shirt as it was a Spencer-shaped piece of cloth. Not that he was complaining. “I’d like to sing something today!” He announced.

 

“Of course!” Ms.Berry clapped her her hands excitedly. She was beaming proudly as if Spencer wanting to perform was her doing.

 

Mason wasn’t paying a lot of attention as to what was happening, he was exhausted from fighting with his sister. She was giving him a silent treatment of sorts, communicating only through scowls and deadly looks.

 

The band began to play the opening notes to the song. Mason immediately perked up at that. He was doing The Cure’s  ‘Friday I’m in  Love’. Mason loved that song. It sounded very different when Spencer sang it, not better or worse, just _different_. He’d never seen Spencer so enthusiastic during glee. He was dancing! A little awkwardly, but still! What progress compared to his usual tendency to just sway along to the music! It was all due to Alistair, probably. First the sudden change in attitude, now this. He must’ve had some kind of magical power of persuasion to do such a thing to someone as hard-headed as Spencer. He was jealous—so much that his blood seemed to suddenly glow bright green in his veins, turning them into vines running along his body. He’d never brought out that side of Spencer. The more logical part of him, the Madison voice  in his head (which, incidentally was the only place he’d hear her voice in those days), scolded him for being naive and buying into the clichéd teen fantasy of taming the bad boy.

 

Once again, the not-logical part of him won—it was becoming a worrying trend—, and Mason pictured Spencer pining after Alistair, puppy-eyed and fumbling. Alistair would drop his books in the hallway, Spencer would immediately crouch down and help him pick them up, and then— _oops, their hands would touch and their eyes would meet and Spencer would have a lovesick look on his face as generic romance movie music swelled in the background._ In Mason’s little mind movie, there was _literally_ heart-shaped confetti raining down on them. And Spencer was inexplicably shirtless.Despite Mason’s vivid (and perhaps, overactive) imagination, Mason could not see Alistair’s face—he had no idea as to what he looked like, so all he had to be jealous of was a blurry outline of a human so far.

 

_It’s Friday, I’m in love._

 

The silly energy that radiated from Spencer was infectious and had everyone in the room mouthing along, eager to jump out of their seats and join him.

 

Madison caught him singing along, and assuming it to be related to Jane, shot him a menacing glare. He kept singing. About Jane or not, her controlling ways were becoming claustrophobic. 

 

Spencer finished the song with a broad, proud smile on his face. 

 

“Spencer that was amazing!” Ms.Berry was nearly bursting with giddiness. “And a love song! Not what we would expect from you! 

 

“That was a great song, definitely.” Mr.Schue intervened, a little more sternly. “But not what were looking to do at the bar mitzvah. I’d love to see a new combination maybe something with you and Jane in there.“ How weird would that be? Spencer and Jane singing together. Mason couldn’t even picture it. He didn’t understand why Mr.Schue was being kind of cold towards Spencer. “ _Maybe Roderick_.”

 

 

“Look, fine, I don't care if you want to throw other people in the mix or if you want to pick another song but I shouldn't have to sing with a quitter, like Roderick.”

 

He was completely lost as to what was going on. Clearly there was some side drama in the New Directions, and clearly that attitude change of Spencer’s wasn’t being directed towards Roderick.

 

“I’m not a quitter!” It was the most emotion Mason had seen come out of Roderick so far. He was angry, rolling his eyes and balling his fists behind the chair.

 

“Could've fooled me.” Spencer shrugged.

 

“Guys, the point of this is to band together as a team.” Mr.Schue said.

 

“Well then maybe you might find some people who actually want to _try_ and be team players.” Mason was well acquainted with that tone of Spencer’s, he was on the brink of exploding. Mason could almost hear the hiss of his short-fuse being lit.

 

“Yeah, and maybe you could try not being a _dick_.” Roderick spat. The room went silent. Even Kitty’s mouth was left hanging open. Spencer must’ve had really stepped in it for Roderick, who was such a sweetheart all the time, to get that riled up.

 

With that, the New Directions were dismissed and Mr.Schue called Spencer to the office.

 

What in the world was going on between those two? God, Mason _hated_ feeling out of the loop.

 

 

——

 

 

 

Mason scoured the school for Kitty the next morning. He found her just as she was getting out of the girls’ locker room.

 

“Hey, Kitty! Wait up!” Mason cried.

 

“If it isn’t Tweedledee. Where’s Tweedledum?”

 

“Oh! Madison and I are in the middle of a huge fight and—“

 

“Never mind, I don’t care.” Kitty cut him off. “What do you want?”

 

“I was just wondering,” Mason began, hesitantly, “do you know who Alistair is?”

 

“Of course I do. I know who _everyone_ is.”

 

“Well, what’s he like?”

 

“Like a long-lost, burnout Weasley brother.” Kitty said, as mean little smirk crawled across her face. “Why?” 

 

With that description, simultaneously specific and vague, Mason realized who Alistair was. He hung out near the bleachers sometimes—well, more like under them—never without a joint between his fingers and a wisp of smoke around his face. An odd looking guy, with long, red hair and glassy, wide-set eyes. He was almost the opposite of the alert, neurotic Mason. What an unexpected crush Spencer had. 

 

Why was it that when someone you had no romantic interest in confessed their feelings towards you, you never questioned _your_ feelings towards them, but the moment they were past you, you were plagued by all-consuming thoughts of _what-ifs_ and _what-could’ve-beens_? 

 

“No reason.” Mason lied, his voice noticeably going up.

 

“So this wouldn’t have anything to do with, say, _Porter_?” She raised her brows suggestively.

 

“How do you— _No!_ ” He was such a terrible liar. His body betrayed his words, as he felt himself blushing furiously.

 

“Don’t try to deny it McCarthy. Do you think this is amateur hour? I can _smell_ when someone is hiding something from a mile away. The ability to pick up people’s dirty little secrets is, like, part of the head bitch starter pack.  Plus, you two were literally the worst at sneaking around. And Spencer? _Total score_. I’d be all up on that myself if he wasn’t gayer than those vests they’re making us wear for that little brat’s bar mitzvah.”

 

“We’re not together. I like Jane. I asked her out twice this week, you know.”

 

“You are aware that humans can feel things for more than one person at once, right? Not that I’d know. The inability to feel anything but cold, hard disdain for anyone, _ever_? Also part of the head bitch starter pack.”

 

“Look, him and me are just friends. Which is why I wanted to know about this Alistair guy, that’s all.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that, Chris Dollanganger. Maybe one day you’ll believe it. All I know is that Spencer’s got it bad for this guy. You’re still fairly new to this school, so let me give you this bit of important info: _you don’t sing a love song in that choir room to someone unless you want to stick your tongue down that someone’s throat_. Apparently, Spencer’s type of someone is Ultimate Frisbee players who sell patchouli scented soap on Etsy.“ She shuddered exaggeratedly at that last part and with a swish of her ponytail, she gone.

 

Much like every exchange he had with Kitty, this one left him a little dazed with all the words and information she could spew in just one breath. Everything was such a confusing, tangle of emotions. He decided to pin whatever beyond-platonic feelings he had towards Spencer to the childish and selfish self-centredness of only wanting what was no longer there. Not that you could really just _decide_ to place your feelings in a box, to be hidden away from your own consciousness. But you could try, and maybe one day you’d wake up and you wouldn’t feel them anymore. Before he could think much more about everything, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text message from Jane:

 

_Even if we’re not partners in this assignment, we can still hang out sometime. Xo, Jane_

 

And suddenly, pushing his feelings away didn’t seem as hard.

 

_Yeah, we can :)_

 

At least one positive development had come out of that day. He didn’t even know how Jane had gotten his number, but frankly, he didn’t care. For the first time that week, he was genuinely smiling.

 

 

——

 

 

They texted each other a lot from then on. Usually to complain about Myron being quite the screeching, prepubescent, hormone wad of a pill to swallow. There was no such thing as bad publicity, and performing at the bar mitzvah was good for the glee club in that sense, but god, every time Myron opened his hateful little mouth Mason wanted to staple it shut. Jane and him were keeping a tally on how many times he screamed during rehearsals. The results so far were worrying. If a drinking game were to be made out of it, they’d end up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

 

It was Jane who filled him in on what was going on with Roderick and Spencer. Apparently Roderick and her were buddies. “ _Believe me, when you’re the only two kids in glee club and you’re surrounded by people that don’t even go to your school anymore, you bond._ ” She had written. Mason didn’t know why, but he liked that Jane used proper punctuation and no abbreviations even in her texts.

 

Although he’d been massively crushing on Jane ever since Jagged Little Tapestry week, as they talked, he’d realized he didn’t know much about her. Now, five days into a messaging marathon, after actually getting to know her, his already big crush somehow managed to grow.

 

Jane Hayward came from a long line of doctors and lawyers, all of them Dalton alumni. She too had been a Dalton student, and had hoped to be a Warbler—much like every other generation in her family—but their discriminatory policies had driven her to McKinley. Unlike her family, she wanted to follow a performing-arts-related career path. This had not been warmly received. They didn’t want her to become some kind of starving artist, barely getting by on tips and double-shifts at some ratty diner, tainting the prestigious Hayward name. Mason had no idea what that was like, his family was and had always been deeply supportive of the arts.

 

Jane was like Spencer, somewhat. She was stubborn and quick on her feet and _very short-tempered—_ though she was  much more in control of that last thing. While Spencer lashed out, Jane had mastered the passive-agressive-tight-smile, breathing in deeply and then reacting in a calm, collected manner. Jane was also funny and hard-working and tough-as-nails. When she walked into a room, you felt compelled to follow her lead. 

 

Mason was reminded of just why he’d been so drawn to Jane. All the drama with his sister and Spencer had made him forget that.

 

He’d hardly registered the footsteps outside his room when the door was flung open.

 

“Don’t mind me. I’m just getting those cheerleading magazines you borrowed.” Madison said. He could almost touch the contempt in her voice. “Oh, I see you’re still texting Jane. I guess we’re still not on speaking terms then.”

 

“Madison—“ She closed the door before he could get another word in. He did miss talking to his sister, but maybe he didn’t want them to be okay yet. He was right in this situation, he knew it. So why was he the one who was going to have to cave? He wished he could just get her to listen to him. Grab her by the shoulders and shake her, yelling: “I NEED SOME SPACE, OKAY? I KIND OF LIKE JANE A LOT! SO BACK OFF, PLEASE!” 

 

And then, it was as if a lightbulb had emerged, floating above his head. 

 

_He could do it through song._

 

_Of course._

 

 

 

_— — —_

 

Spencer was still riding high from his glee performance—it had been exhilarating! The reaction he’d gotten had made him feel like a damn rockstar. He’d picked the song to show Roderick that he was serious about being into Alistair. Even though it was better suited to his relationship with someone else in his life. He hadn’t seen that someone in what felt like ages. Not that he was keeping track. Not at all. He definitely hadn’t noticed Mason and Jane giggling at some private joke, like, twenty times during rehearsals. He also definitely hadn’t noticed that his lips sometimes felt the tingle of that very confusing, very amazing kiss. Or that Mason smelled like rainy day and that that scent followed him around like a shadow.

 

The deafening sound of Sue’s megaphone-amplified voice filled the gym. All of the students shuffled into an orderly line and Sue barked her orders at them. It was like bootcamp. He’d gotten paired up with some guy whose name he hadn’t even bothered learning. He wished he’d gotten Alistair, so he could ask him more about his so-called “dickish” behavior. He really didn’t have much luck with being paired off. He spent most of the class staring at Alistair, hardly paying any attention to what his partner was doing—or if he was even there.

 

They had glee rehearsal after. There was still animosity between him and Roderick—with biting remarks being tossed at one another— much to Jane’s very evident frustration.

 

“You guys, let’s just nail this number first. Then you can deal with you issues.” She said it calmly but Spencer could tell it was a threat. Jane could get pretty scary when she was pissed off, so Roderick and him complied, ignoring the boiling tension between them and mostly stumbling through the choreography. He had no idea why they’d stuck the two worst dancers in the New Directions with such a dance-heavy number.

 

Kitty and Madison did their number, and Mason, who was supposed to be part of their group, was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t like him to skip rehearsal. To skip anything, really.

 

As rehearsal drew to an end, he saw Mason peering in from behind the auditorium doors. Spencer snuck away from the group to meet him.

 

“Mason McCarthy? Skipping rehearsal? _Why I never_ —“

 

Mason shushed him, motioning him to keep quiet. 

 

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, trying his best to keep a hushed tone.

 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

 

“Yeah dude.”

 

“I’m doing a secret number for the bar mitzvah.”

 

“Why secret?”

 

“Because I’m gonna try and get Madison off my back so I can—“

 

“Get Jane on hers?”

 

“Don’t be crude!” Mason immediately covered his mouth upon realizing how loud he was being.

 

“How did you even get Schuester to agree to that? He went on and on about this being a team building exercise.”

 

“I asked Ms.Berry. Figured she was one of those hopeless romantics so I told her it was for a grand romantic gesture. Which it kind of is. She caved really quickly.” Mason shrugged. 

 

They were friends now, so Spencer wasn’t allowed to harbor any resentment towards Jane for being on the receiving end of said romantic gesture. And yet there it was, pooling in him, the weight of it dragging him down like lead.

 

“I see.” Spencer started towards the rest of the glee club, which looked tiny from where he was standing.

 

“By the way, “ Mason began, “I heard about what happened between you and Roderick. I think you should apologize to him.”

 

“Why?” Spencer asked, coming off angrier and more defensive than he intended to.

 

“Because you were a jerk to him. I thought you were trying to not be that guy.” Mason was right. He was trying to not be that guy. “But I also don’t want you to apologize just because I told you to. I want you to mean it.” Deep down he knew he should’ve apologized already, but old habits died hard and his pride still stuck to him like glue sometimes. Mason’s eyes were warm and patient and urging—he could’ve said anything and Spencer would’ve agreed to it.

 

“Okay.” Spencer said quietly.

——

 

It was the day of the bar mitzvah. Spencer looked at his reflection in the lightbulb framed mirror backstage. Decked out in the sparkliest vest known to man, he looked like 2011 Ke$ha had barfed glittery, electric blue barf all over him.

 

Myron was introducing them onstage, and if Spencer hadn’t spent the last week trying to recover from his shrill screaming, he would’ve fooled him into thinking he was a charming little kid. There was a large fence onstage and a curtain that could outsparkle their outfits. Mason came into view on the opposite side of the stage. _This was for Mason’s secret number. Of course that guy had to go all out._ He wasn’t wearing the same outfit as the rest of them. He had on jeans and a leather jacket, his hair in a swoosh over his eye. He looked badass. What a difference that Cheerio uniform made. Mason’s eyes were closed and he was inhaling and exhaling slowly. When he opened them he caught Spencer staring. “I’m so nervous.” He mouthed.

 

“You’ll do great. I know it.” Spencer mouthed back.

 

He could see Madison appear out the corner of his eye. He wasn’t seeing her face but he could tell she looked both shocked and horrified as she pieced together what was happening.

 

“Mason McCarthy!” Myron announced.

 

The curtain was drawn open. The lighting was dim except for blindingly white spotlight in the back. Mason stepped onto the stage.

 

“ _I want to break free_.” He began, walking as his fingers dragged along the fence. “ _I want to break free._ ”

 

Mason pushed open the fence and gaggles of screaming tween girls flooded to the edge of the stage. This was some teen-heartthrob-level effect he was having on these girls. Mason was a magnet and everyone’s attention was made of metal. That was the best way to describe what was happening. Not a single person wasn’t glued to the curly-haired, electric boy onstage.

 

“ _I want to break free from your lies, you’re so self-satisfied, I don’t need you_.” he sang and looked Madison in the eyes. 

 

The expression on her face was so full of hurt that it made Spencer feel bad. He gave her a sympathetic look, even though she was entirely focused on her brother. She saw him stare and Spencer looked away.

 

“ _I’ve fallen in love. I’ve fallen in love for the first time, and this time I know it’s for real._ ” This part was sung to Jane, as he slid his jacket off and flung it to her with a wink. Jane stood there, eyes and mouth open wide in surprise. _Love?_ That was  fast. Then again, he had burst into the choir room to sing a love song as well. But it was different. He hadn’t meant _love_ love. He had just been trying to prove his seriousness to Roderick. He felt Mason meant it with this song. It was Madison who looked at him sympathetically this time. He didn’t know why, but she gave him sad, little half-smile like she _knew_ —it made Spencer wonder if he was wearing everything he was feeling on his face. He left before the performance was over, desperately needing some air.

 

 

 

——

 

 

Madison and Mason had made up. Spencer saw them hug in the choir room, both teary eyed. He was happy they were okay again. They made reconciliation look so easy. He didn’t want to step on their moment so he decided to walk some more before going back to the auditorium. Spencer thought about what Mason had said to him about apologizing to Roderick. He thought about the kind of person he wanted to be.

 

There was a scream for help. It was so deafening, the whole world  had probably heard it. Spencer instinctively ran towards it. It was definitely Myron’s voice.

 

Myron was stuck in his pod or whatever that thing was. Schuester and Rachel got there moments later, as did the twins.

 

Sue explained what happened. Myron had gotten into his pod too early and was now trapped. Schue tugged at the rope—it was stuck in the pulley. The pod swayed and shook but it made no difference. someone was going to have to go up there.

 

“Okay, Postmodern Gay, use those shapely thighs to wiggle up this rope and get that thing down!” Sue barked at him.

 

“Forget it Sue.”

 

“What are you protesting now?” She said, exasperated.

 

“There’s only one man for the job.” Spencer turned to Roderick, who just looked puzzled.

 

“What are you doing?” Roderick said, low and hushed.

 

“I know I was a dick before, but I was the wrong kind of dick.” Spencer’s hands clasped Roderick’s shoulders. He busted out his most encouraging tone. “Now I’m being the right kind of dick and telling you that you can do this.” 

 

“ _Can’t we just get a ladder?_ There’s got to be one in here, somewhere.” Kitty said. You could hear the eye-roll in her voice.

 

“No! Roderick can do it!” And Spencer believed it. Roderick could do it. He could climb that rope and get the little twerp down and out of that thing.

 

Roderick didn’t say anything for a few seconds, probably weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

 

“ _Ah, what the hell_. Give me those gloves.”

 

Roderick nearly tackled at the rope. He strained to wrap himself properly around it. And then he began to climb, and climb, and climb some more. He slipped down the rope causing everyone to let out a tense gasp—Spencer lunged forward, ready to catch him. He didn’t fall, he’d merely slid down a little. Roderick tightened his grip on the rope and kept going until he had unhooked it from the pulley. Both the pod and him glided down with ease.

 

“I can’t believe I did that.” Roderick said breathlessly. Spencer could tell the adrenaline was still pumping in his veins.

 

“In emergencies, even babies can lift cars.” Spencer had no idea what the nonsensical babble that had come out of his mouth had come from. Roderick didn’t seem to notice, responding with a friendly smile. 

 

Myron had to be escorted out. Apparently he had completely crapped himself in that pod. He was yelling about how he was supposed to go on in minutes but Rachel calmed him, telling him they would stall the audience.

 

“Spencer, Jane. Come on.” Rachel motioned them to follow her.

 

“And Roderick.” Spencer added. “You guys with me?”

 

“Sure!” Jane replied.

 

“Yeah, we’re with you.” Roderick gave him one of those hand-clasp-hug things that guys always did. Spencer couldn’t help but grin. He felt like he’d made a friend, a really awesome one. Maybe the whole not-being-a-jerk thing wasn’t so bad.

 

Mason flashed him a smile. He didn’t have to say it, Spencer knew what it meant. 

 

_“I’m proud of you.”_

 

 

 

——

 

 

They had absolutely killed with “Uptown Funk”. People from the audience had even joined them onstage! He was nearly stumbling over his own feet—still short of breath from the rush of performing—as he entered the choir room.

 

Alistair sat on top of the piano, strumming a ukulele. Spencer stood up straighter, collecting himself at the sight of him.

 

“What are doing in here?” He asked, trying to balance cool and playful in his tone. “Playing a ukulele.”

 

“I like to jam out on my uke sometimes to classics.”

 

“So you just _happened_ to be here hoping that I’d walk by.”

 

“No, Roderick told me about the bar mitzvah. He said that you’d be performing and that I wouldn’t want to miss it.” Alistair said. “And man, was he right.” 

 

“Wait, you were in there, watching?” Spencer could feel the heat of an emerging blush. Alistair had seen him dance goofily and sing about being _“sexy”_ and _“flaunting it”_. _Oh god._ His face had to be bright red. _It had to_.

 

“Oh yes, yes I was.” Alistair drawled, lips spreading into a flirty smirk. “You got some moves, _Varsity Blues_.”

 

Spencer giggled like some middle-schooler.

 

“But actually, I wanted the chance to say sorry for ignoring you. Maybe I didn’t get the best first impression. Roderick told me about how you stood up for him. How you always had his back. Well, that was really cool of you Spencer. I had a feeling underneath all that macho snark, you’re a pretty sweet guy on the inside.” Spencer felt like he was floating, like with every word that came out of Alistair’s mouth, his feet separated from the ground some more. “Plus, on the outside, you’re smoking hot. I mean, like, _I’m not blind_. You’re like, _ridiculously ho_ t.”

 

Spencer giggled again. _Could he not stop doing that? How embarrassing._

 

“You know, we still need people for the glee club. If you’re interested.” Spencer said hesitantly.

 

“In the glee club?”

 

Spencer nodded.

 

“I don’t know…” Alistair scrunched his nose. “I might be kind of a loser, but am I really _that_ much of a loser?”

 

“I’m gonna say _yes_.” Spencer said with a laugh. Alistair laughed too and it made Spencer want to melt. 

 

“You’re gonna have to work on that sales pitch if you really—“ Spencer grabbed Alistair by the top of his shirt and pressed a kiss on him before he could finish. He hadn’t kissed anyone besides Mason in a while, and Alistair felt so different, it threw him off a little. There was the faint smell of pot that clung to his long hair but not in a bad way, and something else entirely. If Mason smelled like rain, Alistair smelled like the earth. 

 

Alistair pulled back. “ _And sold_.”

 

By now, his feet had certainly detached themselves from the choir room floor. 

 

He didn’t even notice Mason standing by the doorway.


	10. We're In Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long: had tons of stuff to do, was lacking inspiration and got ultra-hooked on 'The Fosters'. Yikes.  
> But yeah comment down below, any feedback you give me is greatly appreciated!!  
> <3

_Oh._

 

Mason’s hand flew to cover his mouth so a gasp didn’t escape from it. He wished to go back in time, he wished he hadn’t decided to go look for Spencer, he wished he could dissolve into the air, but most of all he wished he was on top of that piano. He tried to silence his brain. It was all impulse—just teenage hormones messing with his head. He’d never liked Spencer that way. He was attracted to him, but it never went beyond the physical. His body had just reacted automatically to seeing someone else’s lips fit so well with Spencer’s. _Right?_ Everything was working out for him as he’d wanted—Madison and him had made up, Jane was interested in him and he was free to date her. So why wasn’t he happier about it? He rushed away, nearly slamming into several innocent bystanders. He just needed to be away from everything. _Selfish, selfish, selfish._ That was what he was. He wanted everything to himself. It was very wrong, but he had no control over it. He didn’t always feel this way, not when he was with Jane. These feelings came in bursts.

 

_You want him just because you can’t have him, you want him just because you can’t have him._ Mason muttered to himself like a mantra. A hand squeezed his shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” Jane’s voice was soothing, ushering him back to reality, back from the whirlwind of emotions that had taken his whole body hostage

 

“I’m fine.” Mason said, too tightly, he was sure. Jane didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Good. Then are we getting some pizza or what? I know we didn’t actually work together on this assignment but—“

 

“Hey, assignment or no assignment, I promised a pizza date and I am a man of my word.”  He held out his arm, signalling her to loop hers around it. She did. Forget Spencer and Alistair and everything else. This was how it was supposed to be. This was how he wanted it to be.

 

———

 

Much to Jane’s dismay, the New Directions and the Warblers had been melded together into one giant super showchoir. 

 

“I can’t believe it.” She had told Mason with a sigh. “I came here because they wouldn’t take me even after I _killed_ that audition and now I have to welcome _them_ with open arms? It’s so unfair.”

 

“Hey, this is _our_ turf, okay? You don’t have to tolerate any of their crap. We’ll totally back you up if they even try to mess with you.” Mason gave her hand a light squeeze. Jane smiled at him. “Now, you’re gonna march in there, head held high. You can do this.”

 

They had been dating for a little over a week, but it felt like longer—hey’d already settled into the whole couple thing, the comfortable familiarity of it. Spencer and Alistair were the opposite, they had not settled into their togetherness yet—everything was fresh and they were all over each other all the time. Glee Club. Hallways. The frequent sneaking off during practice. Lips and tongues constantly attached. Hands dropping low when they thought no one was looking. The sheer amount of PDA Mason had witnessed that week would’ve driven anyone to celibacy.

 

They walked into dance rehearsal with their fingers entwined. Jane breathed in deeply. Mason knew how hard it was for her to put aside the bitterness she harboured towards the Warblers for the good of the team. 

 

The New Directions and the Warblers stood on opposite ends of the stage, like someone had put and invisible, electric fence between them. Jane tightened her grip on his hand.

 

Fifteen minutes in and there were already problems. Mr.Schue demonstrated the choreography and the Warblers followed with robotic precision—the New Directions, however, did not. The timing was different for each of them—when Mason had begun to spin, Roderick was still two-stepping.

 

“Come on! This choreography is about as rudimentary as it gets!” Head Warbler, whose name Mason did not know nor bothered to ask about considering how he’d acted towards Jane, said. “You guys aren’t even close.”

 

Mr.Schue began to give one of his motivational speeches, which sounded a lot more like an attempt to make the New Directions feel less like complete failures. “We’re a team.” He insisted.

 

“Are we? ‘Cause, look at us—Half of us are wearing uniforms from a different school.” Jane said, with flimsily covered anger.

 

And with that, absolute chaos ensued.

 

“Teams wear uniforms. You guys should grab a blazer.” Head Warbler said. There was a sneer Mason didn’t like at all in the way he spoke.

 

“You guys would look great in blazers.” Blaine said calmly.

 

“This is McKinley, _dude_.” Spencer was not calm, he was flat-out annoyed. _He’d look good in a blazer. And tie. Oh my god, Mason stop._

 

“Yeah, your sexist empire doesn’t even exist.” Jane said smugly. Spencer and her exchanged a satisfied look.

 

“Our look is iconic. Synonymous with tradition and excellence. Not to mention it elevates anyone who wears it to sex symbol status. ” 

 

“Wait, I’ll take one.” Myron piped in.

 

“Women love these.” Other Warbler, whose name Mason also did not know, said.

 

“ _Do they?_ ” Kitty said.

 

“Come on guys, we welcomed you to our school with open arms—” Kurt said

 

“ _Semi-open_.” Kitty corrected him.

 

“You can’t expect us to adopt your uniforms too.” 

 

It was true, the Warbler uniforms were so…Constricting and uptight. Mason had not been in the New Directions for that long but he knew that their scrappy and full-of-heart vibe was what made them charming. Who wanted to watch perfectly synchronized,, blazer-clad automatons?

 

Blaine muttered something to Ms.Berry.

 

“Okay, look you guys, we’ve had a lot of success with this in the past, we’ll just give you _our_ uniforms to wear during the competition.” She said brightly.

 

“Red t-shirts and converse are not uniforms. You have _costumes_.” _Whatever they had, it won them a National championship, unlike your blazers._ Mason was about to say that when Madison launched at the snooty Warbler, arms stretched and hands balled up in fists, ready to fight him. Mason had to hold her back. His sister would’ve done some serious damage to the guy’s face. If she could extract it from so far up his ass, that was.

 

“ _Guys, enough_!” Mr.Schue said sternly. “We need to have some unity here, okay. You attend McKinley now, I’m sorry, but the blazers need to go.”

 

“We are grateful that you have welcomed us into your school, and to be performing with you guys, but we didn’t choose to come here. You always talk about how important glee club and McKinley is to you. We felt the same about Dalton.” Head Warbler said. Mason looked over to Jane, who seemed to be fighting every cell in her body to keep from rolling her eyes.

 

“A _nd then we watched it burn to the ground!_ ” Other Warbler joined in.

 

“These jackets aren’t just uniforms. They’re a tribute. The last surviving artefact of a place that meant so much to us. It’s all that we have left.” 

 

The Warblers’ sad reminiscing was interrupted by Coach Bieste.

 

“You pun’kins have bigger problems than your new costumes. I just got word that Sue is the new coach for Vocal Adrenaline.”

 

Everyone dropped their mouths in shock, Mason had no idea how they hadn’t seen it coming.

 

————-

 

The next day, Mason caught Jane and Spencer talking and laughing. It was very strange. He was pretty sure their only interaction ever had been that exchange of looks during rehearsal and now, here they were, acting the chummiest of chums.

 

“Hey,” Mason said, wedging himself slightly between the two. “What’s going on?”

 

“Oh! Hey, sweetie!” Jane said brightly. “I was just telling Spencer here that Alistair and him should double-date with us this Friday.”

 

_Dear god no._

 

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea. Alistair doesn’t really know anyone in glee. I know he’d love to get to know you guys.”

 

“I, uh—Don’t you have practice ’til late on Friday, Spencer?” Mason asked, his voice pitch wobbling through the whole sentence.

 

“ _No?_ ” Spencer looked him, puzzled. “We have practice pretty much the same day you guys ha—“

 

Spencer must’ve noticed the panic flickering in Mason’s widened eyes because he abruptly stopped talking.

 

“Great! It’s settled then!” Jane said. “Friday, _Breadstix_ at seven.”

 

Spencer mouthed something to him that Mason couldn’t entirely make out, but it was coupled with an apologetic look making it seem like he’d said something along the lines of “sorry for crashing your date.” If only that were the problem for Mason.

 

Jane grabbed his hand and waved Spencer goodbye with her free one.

 

——

 

 

Spencer didn’t really smoke pot. He’d messed around with it at parties occasionally, he’d just never gone out of his way to acquire it. He didn’t mind it becoming a fairly regular thing in his life now that he was with Alistair—he quite enjoyed it, actually. Sure, the smoke dried out his throat and it was like his lungs shrunk into dehydrated raisins when he inhaled it, but he did love the total calmness that it brought on—Spencer was not really a relaxed kind of guy, and not getting riled up easily was always welcomed.

 

His parents weren’t home—hadn’t been home for a week, really—and Alistair was crouched over the coffee table rolling a joint with practiced ease. It was strangely soothing, watching do it—the way his thumbs worked quickly with the paper. The whole process was more complex than he thought—people usually just handed him the finished product.

 

“There we go.” Alistair said with a satisfied smile after examining the joint. between his fingers “It can’t be too loose, you know?” He lit it and settled into the couch next to Spencer, cross-legged.

 

“Hey, so Jane asked me if we wanted to go on a double date with her and Mason and I said yes. That’s cool with you, right?”

 

“Of course. I’m just not sure if it’s cool with Mason.” Alistair said.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He doesn’t like me, I think.” Alistair said cooly as a thin cloud of smoke cascaded out of his mouth and into the air. Spencer thought it looked super cool, the way it swirled ethereally, white and cloud-like.

 

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, curiosity suddenly peaked.

 

“I just do.” Alistair shrugged. “It’s his whole vibe. I don’t really care as to whether or not he likes me, I just have a bad feeling about the four of us going out to dinner.”

 

Spencer had never noticed any hostility on Mason’s part towards Alistair—why in the world would he even _be_ hostile towards him? Alistair was so relaxed and easygoing, no one ever disliked him. Was that why Mason had looked so alarmed that morning? Spencer had thought he just didn’t want them crashing his date with Jane.

 

“C’mon. It’s impossible not to like you. Maybe this dinner will get him to warm up to you. Get to know you better.”

 

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when Mason looks like he’s passing a gallstone through the whole thing.” Alistair kissed him, hand nestled on the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “Speaking of dinner, I’m very hungry. Want to order some pizza?” Before Spencer could reply, Alistair hopped off the couch to find the phone and handed him the joint. Spencer brought it to his lips, inhaling the smoke. It burned going down his throat all the way to his lungs. He never had enjoyed that sting. He exhaled a puff of white—not looking nearly as awesome as when Alistair did it.

 

Alistair spoke in a slow, deliberate drawl to whatever pizza place he’d called. It was very funny to watch his boyfriend over-enunciate every word as if he was afraid they wouldn’t understand it when he said ‘ _pepperoni_ ’.

 

“Now, where were we?”  Alistair said as he sat on Spencer’s lap, draping his arms around his neck. Alistair’s long, messy hair brushed against Spencer’s face as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh, yeah.” Alistair said, pulling back slightly so only their noses were touching. He had eyes that seemed to be made of glass, sometimes.

 

__ __ __

 

 

It was Friday night and Alistair and him were at _Breadstix_ , pressed together tightly on their booth seat—they were both big, broad-shouldered guys. They had dressed up a bit —well, mostly Spencer, but Alistair wasn’t wearing any caps or baggy, grey-green clothes, which was probably as dressed up as he’d ever be willing to get. They had already eaten a bunch of breadsticks. Jane and Mason hadn’t gotten there yet. They were playing a game as they waited. Alistair had one breadstick in each hand and was drumming along to some song, the name of which Spencer had to guess. 

 

“It’s definitely INXS’ ‘Never Tear Us Apart’.” Spencer said with surprising conviction for someone who had just guessed seven wrong titles in a row.

 

Alistair shook his head.

 

“What? Are you serious?”

 

“You are very bad at this game,Varsity Blues.”

 

“Maybe you’re a crap drummer.” Spencer said teasingly, inching closer to Alistair’s face.

 

“If it makes you feel better.” Alistair murmured, mirroring Spencer’s flirty tone. They were about to kiss when they heard Jane’s voice greet them.

 

“Hi!” 

 

“Hey, guys.” Mason said, not matching Jane’s excitement, but still with a smile on his face. Spencer examined him for any signs of apprehension, but found none that couldn’t be attributed to the awkwardness of not just being on a date, but _being on a date with someone he used to fool around with_. It was awkward for Spencer too, however, he’d thought doing the date thing would help dissuade any remaining tension between them.

 

They sat in silence, the weight of it unbearable for Spencer, not because he disliked silence, but because he disliked uncomfortable silence. He tried to think of something to say, but only the weather was popping into his brain—when it came to talking, if you talked about weather it was always a dead giveaway of your discomfort. Plus, it was kind of hard to concentrate when his boyfriend was running his fingers along his thigh. Mason was usually such a talker, but he was quiet, just moving the breadstick crumbs on his plate around with his knife.

 

“So,” Jane began, “How do you guys feel about the Warblers?”

 

“Can’t stand them. They’re a bunch of pompous douchebags. No offense. I know you used to go there.” Spencer said.

 

“None taken. You know they didn’t let me into the Warblers because I’m a girl?”

 

“ _Are you serious?_ ” Spencer said, incredulous. He’d known Jane had transferred but he had never asked about her time at Dalton. “That’s so jacked up. Is that why you left? Man, it must suck to have to welcome them into _your_ glee club.”

 

Jane nodded. “And yes, it does suck. And they’re making demands now? Honestly, the nerve.”

 

“Totally agree.” Spencer said.

 

“At least you’ve filled you member quota now. Silver lining.” Alistair chimed in.

 

“ _Our_ quota.” Jane corrected him. “You’re part of the team now too.”

J _ane already saw Alistair as part of the team_. It brought on a smile from Alistair. “You know,” he said, fingers now off of Spencer’s thigh and circling the rim of his glass,”It might not be so bad wearing this blazers as long as they’re not obviously from Dalton. I think you’d look super hot.” He turned to Spencer, giving him a nudge in the arm.

 

“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.” Mason said abruptly. What crawled up his butt? Alistair had been right. Mason was being all weird.

“Yeah, me too.” Spencer said, sliding out of the booth seat to follow him. Mason shot him a glare, but Spencer ignored it.

 

They didn’t say a word until they were both in the bathroom, Mason leaning against the sink.

 

“Okay, what is up with you? Why are you acting all weird?”

 

“What to you mean?” 

 

“Well, you’re being kind of rude to Alistair.” Not wanting to sound too accusatory, Spencer quickly added, “Is something up?”

 

“No, nothing is up. Just—“ Mason sighed, “Nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be mean. I’ll be perfectly pleasant when we  get out of here.”

 

“Mason, seriously, you can tell me if something is up.”

 

“Nothing is up, _I swear_.” He crossed his heart with his finger and smiled. It wasn’t genuine, in fact, that smile was so fake it could’ve been made out of neon-yellow plastic. Something was wrong and Mason wasn’t telling him what it was. He suddenly felt bad about having been so harsh when confronting Mason.

 

“Okay, good. Because Alistair thinks you don’t like him, you know?”

 

“I _do_ like him.” Mason said. “I’ll try and show it more.”

 

“Thank you.“ Spencer said. “And I’m sorry if I was harsh before.”

 

“It’s fine, I deserved it.” Mason’s smile strained to remain on, it looked like it was slowly unstitching itself from his face. “You clean up nice.” Mason said, fingering the collar of Spencer’s navy dress shirt. Mason’s hand being so close to his skin made it feel like it was heating up from the inside. No matter what, Mason still meant a great deal to him and Spencer didn’t think his attraction to him would ever completely disappear. Mason was latched on to him, a permanent occupant of part of his brain, whether Spencer liked it or not.

 

“Thanks, Mace.” Spencer said. “We should get going before they think we fell through a portal into another dimension.”

 

Mason laughed, but it sounded hollow.


	11. I Never Said You’d Be Easy (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're entering the last stretch of this fic. Please forgive me for the lateness in updating. Also let me know what you think in the comments below, always appreciate the feedback! Love you guys <3

 

 

_“You’re worse! You dance like a blind man with a back brace, who hasn’t taken a dump in three weeks.”_

 

The New Directions and the Warblers were at it again. Mason, who was well aware of Spencer’s dancing insecurity, instinctively turned to see his reaction. It must’ve stung. _God, Mason had no patience for these guys_. Honesty was appreciated, always, but there was a fine line between being candid and being a jerk. If he could throw a punch without there being any consequences besides one black-eyed Warbler, he would’ve.

 

“Hey, I don’t have to dance good. I just need to look good. _Which I do_.” Spencer replied like he replied whenever someone hit him where it hurt—full of cocky bravado. Mason knew better. _Mason knew him_. It was all for show, what Spencer was doing. It may have had everyone fooled, but not him. 

 

“Get over yourself, we all look good. Even Julianne Moore over there.” 

 

Spencer’s fingers curled into a fist, Mason could see it out the corner of his eye. Those last words had been what triggered the reaction—Spencer could snark it up if someone insulted him, but the moment they touched on someone dear to him, well, it probably wasn’t going to end prettily. Fiercely loyal and incredibly impulsive was an explosive combination. Spencer wasn’t like Mason, he didn’t think of the consequences before acting. Mason snapped his fingers to draw Spencer’s attention. When they locked gazes he mouthed “ _don’t_ ’. Spencer seemed to deliberate whether or not to listen to him, but ultimately his hands dropped to his sides. The last thing they needed was someone getting a black eye for Sectionals, even if it was a deserved one.

 

Kitty sided with the Warblers, asking Spencer and Roderick to take one for the team and move to the back row. The two boys took their new places—Roderick with his head hung low and Spencer with his head held high. Spencer stood directly behind him, and Mason swore he could feel the heat of the anger seeping from his body. Mason reached out, hand behind his back, and grabbed Spencer’s fingers, giving them a sympathetic squeeze. Spencer’s hand jerked at first, but then settled into his for a few comforting seconds, before discreetly pulling away. It never registered how incredibly inappropriate that gesture had been. 

 

After a few more notes from Mr.Schue, mostly attempts to rally the two ex-rival show choirs into becoming an actual team, rehearsal was over and they were free to go.

 

Mason tapped the back of Spencer’s head as they left the choir room.

 

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Spencer said with a casual nod.

 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Mason pulled him away from the rest of the glee club, towards the corner of the near empty hallway. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Uh… _Yeah_.”

 

“Are you sure? You paused.”

 

“I paused because it was random question. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”  Spencer asked, brows furrowed. 

 

“I—I don’t know. Never mind.” Mason said with a sigh. Of course Spencer would never admit to any kind of vulnerability. ”Forget it.”

 

“You gotta stop doing that thing you do where you bring something up only to shrug it off seconds later. So again, why do you ask?” His expression softened, going from defensive to genuinely curious, maybe a little hopeful. 

 

“I know how you feel about dancing, and I know it’s kind of an Achille’s heel for you. I’d hate to have my vulnerabilities made fun of like that in glee, especially by someone I didn’t even know. I just don’t want you to feel discouraged, that’s all. I’ll work on it with you if you want. After practice or something.” Mason offered with a warm smile. Spencer and him hadn’t talked properly in a while—both their relationships were incredibly new and had been very demanding of their full attention. Mason couldn’t remember the last time he’d caught Spencer without him physically touching Alistair in any way. The same could be said for him and Jane—thought they weren’t as PDA-prone, they were hardly apart. He liked being with Jane a lot, but he missed his talks with Spencer. And maybe part of him missed the other stuff too, but he really didn’t want to reopen that can of worms.

 

“Thanks, dude. But I’ll figure it out on my own. Don’t worry about me, I’m a big boy, I can handle people talking crap about me. I’ve heard worse, trust me.” Spencer gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and an awkward grin before hurrying off, probably to ask Alistair for help instead. Mason ignored the quiet bitterness in the pit of his stomach.

 

Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned, startled. Jane.

 

“So, what was that about?”

 

“Nothing, just asking him about some healthy eating tips. Crunch time with the Cheerios, you know?” 

 

“Oh, okay. I thought you weren’t doing that.”

 

“I’m not being as intense about it as Madison, but I have to be in good shape or I’ll get kicked off the team.”

 

“Just don’t starve yourself, please.” Jane said, gently cupping the side of his face. “And don’t take those protein things, they’re not good for you.”

 

“Yup.” Mason nodded, with a smile so tight you probably couldn’t see his lips. “That’s what he told me.”

 

Two weeks into their relationship and he was already lying to her. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it. The quiet bitterness began to turn into pounding guilt and he had to shut his eyes briefly to keep it from growing. ‘ _It’s better if she doesn’t know’ ,_ he thought to himself.

 

 

____

 

He had to hear it from Kitty of all people. Kitty, who, for some reason Spencer had picked instead of him to coach him. He was so angry he was practically stomping when he burst into the locker room.

 

“ _Are you insane?_ ” He yelled, as the door slammed shut behind him. ” _A cortisone shot?_ You want to potentially ruin your entire athletic career for this? You do know that’s what’s going to happen when you bust your knee or something, right? How can you be so reckl-“ Mason stopped talking as soon as he saw Spencer lifting.”Will you put that down! You’re injured.”

 

“Yeah, but my arms aren’t.”

 

“It’s all the pot. It’s burnt up your brain. I never would’ve pegged you for a burnout but clearly you are if these are the decisions you’re making!”

 

“Okay, I’m not a burnout. I haven’t just started smoking pot now, _jeez_. And I’m getting that shot.”

 

“Unbelievable.” Mason was livid. How could Spencer not care about himself. How could he care so much about the glee club, that he was willing to jeopardize an entire future for a chance to win at Sectionals. Had he always been so selfless? Or did he have a serious saviour complex, willing to sacrifice himself to save their team? “What’s the point of getting that shot for Sectionals if you won’t be able to compete in Regionals or Nationals or god knows what because you made your injury irreparably worse?”

 

“ _Why do you care so much?_ ” Spencer huffed, finally setting down the large weight. “Why do you care so much about what I do?”

 

“Because I l—“ Mason corrected himself before even finishing his sentence. He wasn’t going to use that word. It would be wildly un-okay to use that word.“Because I care about _you_.” 

 

“But why do you care about me? It’s not like were together.”

 

“No, but we’re friends.”

 

Spencer didn’t say anything to counter him. 

 

“This is why I wanted to be the one helping you. This would not have happened on my watch.” Mason said, sitting down on the bench next to Spencer. “Why didn’t you want me to help you. Why go to Kitty?”

 

“Because I don’t think I don’t think it would’ve gone well. There’s a lot of proximity involved, lots of touching to show how to do this and that. I don’t think I could do that. I think we can be friends but you’re not entirely in that category for me yet. And I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from—“ He paused to look at Mason. He had such pretty eyes, a green-specked blue that could turn from steely condescension to what they had melted into now—warm and tender and sad.

 

“To keep yourself from what?” The words fell out of Mason’s mouth before he could even think to keep them locked up in his throat. He knew what Spencer was going to say.

 

“This.” They were close. Too close. There were a million reasons as to why what they were doing was wrong. Selfish reasons that were being ignored because their lips were nearly touching and his heart was suddenly too big for his body, pounding away in his chest as Spencer’s hand slid up his torso. Mason’s vision was like static, far too fuzzy and unclear. Then Spencer’s breath hitched and his eyes widened, like he’d snapped back into reality, out of an alternate universe where they could kiss and kiss and kiss, and back into his own relationship having self. “We can’t do this. This i why I didn’t want to ask you for help. I thought I was over these feelings but I don’t think I can be alone with you without screwing things up with Alistair. I’m exceptionally good at screwing things up. It could actually go on under skills on my resumé. _Professional fuck-up._ But I’m trying really hard to make things work and I think I’m getting there.” Spencer ran his hand through his prickly, closely-shaved hair.

 

“You’re right. Me too. I thought it’d be easier and—”

 

“I didn’t.” Spencer muttered.

 

“—I think we’re both self-destructive vortexes and I don’t want the people we love to become collateral damage.” 

 

“So, you love Jane.” Spencer half-smiled at him, both happy and sad at once.

 

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t told her yet, though. Don’t you love Alistair?” The truth was, he wasn’t sure if it was love, or if he desperately wanted it to be. But he had strong feelings for her, that much he knew. 

 

“I think it’s too early to know. I don’t fall in love with people that easily.” Spencer was staring at his bandaged up leg like it was the most interesting thing in the world. _Did you fall in love with me?_ Mason wanted to ask him that, because lately he was starting to think he’d fallen for Spencer but was only realizing it now. “I like him a lot, though.”

 

“ _Please don’t get that cortisone shot._ ” Mason said, almost like a whisper. He looked at Spencer pleadingly, bottom lip secured under his teeth as he awaited a response from Spencer, who had his brows were knit together and his mouth twisting to the side, pensive.

 

“Okay.” He said, finally.

 

“ _Okay?_ ” Mason repeated, lips beginning to curl into a relieved smile. Spencer nodded, Mason instinctively leaped into a hug. A friendly hug, Or an attempt at one. His face was pressed against Spencer’s shoulder, strong and broad, and he was overwhelmed by the comforting smell of him—that boyish smell he couldn’t quite pinpoint in any way other than that it was so distinctively Spencer’s. He made sure not to linger longer than the appropriate amount of time.

 

“I really wanted to be onstage with you guys.”

 

“Who says you can’t be? We’ll figure something out.”


	12. I Never Said You'd Be Easy (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took forever, and I apologize. Hope there are still people reading this.

Spencer hadn’t thought about Mason in that way ever since he’d started going out with Alistair. Somehow, Mason had been shrunk and stored in the back of his brain. There, always, but not unbearably so. Then he had to go hold his hand to try and comfort him. He had to bring it all back. Spencer had felt his breath grow quick and goosebumps crawl over his arms. There really wasn’t any point in storing away you feelings— covering something that had been broken with a cloth wasn’t going to make it any less broken. 

 

The worst part was the guilt—he wasn’t cheating on Alistair, not physically, but just thinking of Mason made it feel a lot like he was. It was unfair and crappy to his boyfriend, _his actual boyfriend,_ that his mind kept wandering off into _Masonland_ lately. Spencer had never been aserious relationship kind of guy, never too fond of the idea of settling down, but he knew that were he to ever enter a relationship—that wasn’t just screwing around —he’d never be unfaithful. And though he technically wasn’t cheating, it sure felt like he had been for the past couple of days. 

 

 

\--

 

 

They won Sectionals, beating Vocal Adrenaline, even with his injury. They managed to work their way around it, having him _literally_ swing from the enormous chandelier that was hung above the stage. It had been such a rush. Winning a football game had nothing on winning Sectionals—he wasn’t sure why, possibly because for football he almost always knew he had it in the bag and with glee, for once, he was unsure of his chances of winning, making it all the more rewarding when they did.

 

The New Directions were all screaming—some were crying, even—when they had been announced as the winners. 

 

_

 

 

They had just come back from the massive celebratory dinner at Breadstix. Alistair was on top him, pinning him in place on his bed, wisps of his hair tickling Spencer’s nose. The two of them were in that otherworldly plane that came with winning, the glow of it covering them still. Screwing had been made significantly more awkward with Spencer’s injured leg, but in the past few days they had figured it out. 

 

Their skin had the sheen of sweat, and they huffed lowly as they ground against each other. Alistair moaned out his name, and then there were streaks of come on Spencer’s stomach. Alistair was so attractive, but in a very strange way. There was an oddness to his face, that made Spencer unable to look away. 

 

Alistair dropped to Spencer’s side, making the mattress creak loudly. He wrapped his arm around Spencer’s waist and pulled himself closer. 

 

 

They lay there without saying a word, just taking in the company of one another. Alistair’s breaths on his neck were short and quick, gradually slowing down until he could hardly feel them anymore, and the arm he had draped over Spencer grew heavier as he fell asleep.

 

Having Alistair like that was both familiar and foreign, in the sense that most of their nights together ended similarly but there was still something off about them. Spencer didn’t know what it was but it was infinitely frustrating to have everything needed for a good relationship at his disposal and still not feeling the click he was supposed to feel. Because there was a difference between what was felt nice and what felt _right_. The line was still blurry between the two, but recently he’d found himself tipping towards the side of nice. 

 

Was it because he’d come to realize that he wasn’t as over Mason as he’d thought? Or were these reawakened feelings just a lapse on his part that would be straightened out in no time? Maybe it was because he wasn’t being fully honest about everything to Alistair. Maybe he needed to tell him about his past with Mason and get it off his chest once and for all. Maybe it was all of the above. It was late at night and Spencer couldn’t let himself fall asleep when his brain was overloaded with racing thoughts and mixed feelings. He decided that putting all the stuff about Mason on the table would finally let him move on. It would finally feel right.

 

 

But it could wait until morning.

 

__

 

 

“I used to hook up with Mason.” Spencer blurted out, mouth half-full of cereal. He had been ruminating on how to tell him since they’d woken up, apparently his brain decided to just let the information explode out of him.

 

“ _What?_ ” Alistair, whose attention had been fixed on the Saturday morning cartoons, seemed to suddenly have been jolted awake.

 

“I used to hook up with Mason.” Spencer repeated, much lower and without making eye contact. “Please don’t hate me for not telling you sooner. I thought it would be better if I didn’t—”

 

“Better for me? Or for _you_?”

 

“I don’t know.” Spencer sighed. “Both, I guess? It was for a short amount of time and it wasway before I met you, okay? And I want us to work and me not telling you this, not being completely honest about this was starting eat away at me. I needed to tell you, you deserved to know this.”

 

“Did you have feelings for him?” Alistair asked, eyes burning into Spencer’s, despite sounding calm as he always did.

 

“No. I didn’t.” _Liar._

 

“Are you sure? Because I think you feeling guilty about not telling me about him says otherwise.”

 

“Okay, maybe I had _some_ feelings. But they’re gone. He didn’t feel the same way. He was like, in love with Jane. So I backed off and moved on.”

 

Alistair was looking at him like he didn’t completely believe him, but didn’t argue. Instead, he asked: “Does _he_ have feelings for you?”

 

“No. Definitely not.” 

 

“I think he does.” Alistair said, his eyebrow quirking slightly. “I think it would explain a lot if he does.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just think about how he acts around me. And how he just cares _so_ much about you. In glee he constantly has a worried look on his face when you so much as stand up with your injured leg. He either smiles extra-wide when you perform or looks incredibly sad. He drags you away to talk _in private_ constantly.” 

 

“How do you even—”

 

“Just because I look like I’m floating through every rehearsal doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention.”

 

“ _You’re wrong_ , he’s totally head-over-heels for Jane.”

 

“I’m not saying he isn’t. I’m just saying he may feel the same way about you. Now, I’m not the jealous type at all, so I don’t mind that he has feelings for you. But I do have to know whether you’re really ready to move on from him. Because I don’t want to be the guy you’re with just because you can’t be with the guy you actually want.”

 

And in that moment, telling Alistair, Spencer decided, was the absolute worst thing he could’ve done. Now he had to confront his emotions head on. And Spencer never had been good at sorting through those. If Alistair was right, and Mason did like him in a more-than-friendly way, would he want to be with him? Would he choose him over Alistair? And would Mason choose him over Jane?

 

“The time you’re taking to respond makes me think you need to figure some things out.” Alistair spoke in a way he’d never heard him speak before—bitter and hurt and maybe angry.  

 

“I like you _so_ much, Al. And when I’m with you I don’t think about him, because I like being with you.”

 

“It’s not about whether you like me or not, Spencer. It’s about whether you want to be with me or if you’re settling for me.”

 

_It’s complicated_ , he wanted to say. Because he himself didn’t know the answer.Everything was so confusing and tangled and more than anything, he wanted it not to be that way. More than anything, he wanted to scream ‘ _yes, I want to be with you, I’m completely sure_ ’, but the words weren’t coming out of his mouth, they were sticking to his throat like tar.

 

“I think I’ve got my answer.” Alistair pushed his plate to the side and got up. He was wearing Spencer’s very beat-up Titans t-shirt.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

 

“I believe you.” Alistair sighed. “Doesn’t make it not hurt though.”

 

“I hope we can still be friends. I know it’s such a cliché to say it, but I like spending time with you. I always have fun with you.”

 

“I think we can. In time.”

 

 It surprised him, how he didn't feel any pain. He'd just broken up with his boyfriend, he should've felt like he'd taken a knife to the gut, but he didn't. He felt hopeful.

 


	13. I Never Said You’d Be Easy (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoaaa, what's that? I updated? After like three weeks?  
> I'm so so so so sorry guys. I'm still in the middle of finals season, hence the (even) slower updating. I hope you're still interested in reading this. After this it's just two more chapters.  
> I don't have time to proofread this for any mistakes spellcheck might not have picked up so I apologize in advance. I'll do it sometime later this week.
> 
> (also, tell me what you think down in the comments, comments are so important to me!)
> 
> <3 <3

“You broke up with him?” Mason asked, echoing what Spencer had just told him. They were sitting in the locker room, as they seemed to have a habit of doing. They sat in those benches to talk so many times, that the gross smell of post-practice football players didn’t bother them at all anymore. 

 

Alistair and him hadn’t told anyone they had broken up yet. It was his first day in a weeks to go to school as a single dude, and Mason immediately noticed. The guy seemed very off in his own world most of the time, but Spencer had learned he was the most dangerous kind of observant—the kind that seems to not pay attention to things, that seems to go about in floaty aloofness, but actually picks up on the tiniest of details.

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“Why? You guys seemed to be doing great together.”

 

“We just didn’t fit. I wanted us to, but it just didn’t feel right.”Spencer wanted to tell him the whole thing, that he wanted to be with him instead, that his feelings had carried on with him still, but decided to wait. For Alistair—it just seemed like a crappy thing to do, to try and bounce into a brand new relationship a day after ending another one—but also because he was unsure whether it was a good idea as it could complicate Mason and Jane’s clearly happy relationship. Two-months-prior Spencer would’ve charged forward, regardless of whatever chaos he brought on, if it meant getting what he wanted. Current Spencer, however, wasn’t as recklessly selfish.

 

“How did he take it?”

 

“He was okay with it. Not happy, obviously. But he understood.” Spencer said. “He’s a good guy.” _Probably deserved better than me_ , he thought.

 

“How are you taking it?”

 

“Good. Part of me does miss him, but I think we did the right thing and break up. What’s the point in being in a relationship if you’re not one hundred percent committed to it, you know? It’s not that I didn’t want to be, I was trying really hard to be, actually. But I think the fact that I had to try that hard says a lot.”

 

Mason was staring at his shoes, rubbing their fronts together. He wasn’t looking at Spencer, or saying anything, which was strange. If there was one thing Mason was, it was talkative and opinionated.

 

“I don’t know.” Spencer continued. “It’s weird and tough to explain, but I guess I just thought I was more ready than I actually was. I just didn’t realise it until he confronted me about it.” Spencer refused to explain how that confrontation had come about, how it was because of Mason and how despite Alistair’s outside calmness, the way his clear eyes had filled up with sadness had reminded him of frosted glass. It had been the right thing to do, but the same way the truth could be brutal to hear, the right thing didn’t always feel like the best thing.

 

Mason attention remained glued to his shoes, rolling his heels fromside to side.

 

“Mace? Are you even listening to me? Jesus Christ, you’re the one that asked.”

 

“Sorry.” Mason’s head whipped to look at him. “I am listening to you. I’m just thinking.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Stuff. About what you were saying.”

 

“Cryptic, much? And I thought I was the one who hated talking about feelings and crap.”

“I don’t believe you when you say that. You just talked about your break up without throwing up in your mouth.” Mason said with a smirk.

 

_That’s because I’m talking to you. I could talk to you about frog reproduction and not hate it._

 

“I know you say you’re good and all. But no one is totally, completely good after a break up. So, I propose you come over to my house after school where I’ll show you my collection of _Ben & Jerry’s_ and where you, along with me and my sister, will marathon the _Bring It On_ movies. Not chronologically. From worst to best, obviously.”

 

“That sounds absolutely awful.”

 

“Meet us at the car park after school.”

 

 

____ _____ _____

 

 

It struck him that Spencer had never been to his house. He’d been to Spencer’s several times, but it had never happened the other way around. He wondered why he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place—he’d opened his mouth too quickly and invited Spencer over for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of because _yes, Mason, let’s bring home the newly single guy you have some feelings for despite you being in a serious relationship._ When he’d asked Madison if Spencer could come over she’d given him look he couldn’t quite decipher, but okay’ed it. 

 

“Your house is super clean.”

 

“Yeah, me and Madison and all the forest animals have gotten pretty good at these household chores. _Except skunks_ , don’t ever let skunks near your house.”

 

Spencer looked slightly confused, but chuckled anyways.

 

“Where are your parents?”

 

“I honestly have no idea they’re probably—“

 

“Halfway to New York by now. _But who knows?_ ” Madison chimed in. “Jacket?” She asked, extending her arm to Spencer, who handed her his bulky letterman jacket. “You guys put in the DVDs, I’m gonna make some popcorn. Well, microwave some popcorn is more like it.”

 

“Bring me ice cream, please!” Mason shouted before turning to Spencer. “Come on, let me show you where I spend most evenings. I’m pretty sure the couch has moulded into the shape of my butt.”

 

Mason strode into the living room, with Spencer trailing behind him. There was a large shelf with rows of movies. All the Disney DVDs made it seem like Madison and him had had a bright childhood with doting parents. 

 

“Oh, sweet you have _Hercules_?” Spencer said with almost childlike glee. “That’s my favourite Disney movie.” Mason laughed because it made so much sense that _Hercules_ was Spencer’s favourite.

 

“We can watch that if you want. And a bunch of other animated movies. I mean you are literally not at all the target audience for _Bring It On_. Straight guys can at least enjoy the short-skirt-clad cheerleaders.”

 

“If Madison’s cool with it—“

 

“She will be, trust me. Be warned though, we will belt out every song in practiced harmony. We’ve got every Disney duet down pat.”

 

 

____

 

 

Spencer thought his ears we’re going to fall off after hearing Madison and Mason shout out random syllables along to beginning of _Circle of Life—_ but in a good way.Two pints of ice cream and a rather large bowlful of popcorn later, the McCarthys had sung their way through _The Little Mermaid_ (Mason did a killer Sebastian impression), _Hercules_ (Spencer had hesitantly joined them in their singing) and _Tarzan_ (Mason insisted he wasn’t crying at the end, but Spencer could hear sniffling).

 

“You know what I need?” Mason asked.

 

“Pizza. with fresh mozzarella and cherry tomatoes and cheesy garlic bread.” Madison deadpanned, not taking her eyes off the screen.

 

“ _Yes._ ”

 

“That was impressive.” Spencer said, shoving a handful of the little popcorn they still had left in his mouth.

 

“We call it _twintuition_. And no, Mason do not order that pizza. We’ve already ingested so many calories. We have Nationals coming up.”

 

“ _Come on, Mads_.” Mason pouted. “Coach Sylvester isn’t even coaching us anymore. We’ll live.”

 

“Fine. But I don’t want to hear you complaining about how your stomach looks like a bloated pancake.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Mason jumped out of the couch excitedly and grabbed the house phone. The McCarthys still had one of those old-school phones with the long, springy cord. Spencer watched as Mason twirled the cord around his slender fingers, impatient as he awaited an answer.

 

The hugest pizza came, and after all the sweet stuff they had eaten, the three of them couldn’t finish the whole thing. They had slid so low down the couch they had nearly sunk to the floor.

 

“I think I’m going to die. I think I’m actually going to die.” Mason groaned.

 

“Hey, death by pizza is an honourable death.” Spencer groaned back. He was very strict about his diet, so whenever he ate junk food, it tasted exceptionally fantastic—even if he kind of felt like he was going to explode any moment.

 

“I think I’m going to turn in. We’ve watched like five movies straight. I can’t even feel my legs anymore.” Madison said as she struggled to get up from the couch. “I actually had to unzip my skirt.”

 

“Yeah, and I should probably get going. It’s kind of late.”

 

“You can stay.” Mason said, quickly. “We have a guest bedroom. It’s a little too white and asylum-y but it’s past midnight so, I don’t know…” Mason shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking from heel to toe.

 

“Yeah, you can stay.” Madison said with a honeyed drawl that was very different from her usual bluntness. “Mason, can I talk to you for a sec? The guest bedroom is down the hall to your left-”

 

 

___ -____-___

 

 

“ _What the heck are you doing, Mason?_ ” Madison whispered as loudly as one could whisper.

 

“What do you mean what the heck am I—”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You have a girlfriend, Mason. _A serious girlfriend_. And although I am not the biggest fan of her attention-hogging ways, that doesn’t mean I approve of _this_. I don’t know exactly what happened with you and Spencer, but I know it was something. In fact, I think it still is. He just broke up with his boyfriend, do not take advantage of that, Mason. Especially if you aren’t going to break up with Jane.”

 

“How do you even—“

 

“I am your twin sister Mason. And just about anyone in the glee club could see it. Honestly, you were so bad at being discreet.”

 

“Well, nothing is going on between us now. We’re just friends.”

 

“I promised I wouldn’t meddle so much in your business, but this could get really, really messy Mason. Don’t do anything stupid, please.” She didn’t sound like she was scolding him, just genuinely concerned for her little brother which was a billion times worse.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Madison pressed her lips together into a thin line, looking like she was going to add something, but instead let out a soft _‘goodnight’_ before yawning and going to her room.

 

He wasn’t going to to anything stupid. Or at least anything stupider than inviting the guy he still had some feelings for to sleep over at his house. Madison’s voice kept repeating what she’d said, in that stern but caring way she frequently talked to him in. If any part of him had even thought about doing something stupid, Madison had completelypopped that dream bubble with her sharp dose of reality. He had a girlfriend that he loved very much. If he didn’t want to break up with her, he’d just have to suck it up.

 

Mason grabbed some blankets and some pyjamas. Spencer had left the door ajar. Mason never did that, maybe it was sharing a room (and everything else) with his sister for so many years that made crave privacy. He knocked.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Just came here to drop off some blankets for you.” Mason said, nudging the door open with his shoulder. “And some pyjamas. I don’t know if you’re one of those people that sleeps naked, which seems super uncomfortable, but yeah, please wear pyjamas.”

 

“Afraid of seeing me naked?” Spencer smirked. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

 

“No, more like we haven’t had anyone stay in the guest room for a while so I’m afraid you’ll get a urinary tract infection.” Mason stuck his tongue out childishly.

 

“You really do care about me, McCarthy.” Spencer said jokingly. It was true though. Mason did care about him. A lot. 

 

“ _Shut up_.” Mason said. He threw the blankets at Spencer, making him stumble backwards a little. “And go to sleep. We have to get up at six for school.”

 

“ _Six?_ School doesn’t start ’til eight.” Spencer groaned.

 

“Do you want breakfast or not?”

 

“Fine. Six.” Spencer grumbled.

 

 

_ _ _ _

 

 

They had won Regionals with no injuries along the way, and now, two months later, they getting putting the finishing touches on their routine for Nationals. The New Directions were feeling pretty damn invincible. Nationals were going to be in Los Angeles again and it had the whole glee club bursting with excitement. Lists of what to take were being exchanged and plans for the little free time they were going to have were being made. Rachel, Schue and Kurt were in full-coach mode, he’d never seen them to focused before. They were strict and pushing them to work as hard as they could. It was kind of scary sometimes. In a good way.

 

“Guys, c’mon gather around.” Schuester said as he strode into the choir room. “We’re drawing names for hotel roommates.”

 

“No _Wheel of Musical Fortune_ this time?” Kitty said sarcastically. Schuester looked confused.

 

“Um, no. Just drawing names out of a hat. The old fashioned way. Well, just the guys. You, Jane and Madison will be staying in the same room.”

 

The guys formed a circle around Schuester,.

 

“Who wants to go first?”

 

A couple of the ex-Warblers went before it was his turn. There was always some weird anticipation before this sort of thing, even if it was for something ridiculous or insignificant. In this case it was pretty significant. Spencer was mentally crossing his fingers to get Roderick. He stuck his hand into the top hat, swirling it around a bit before his fingers landed on a piece of paper that just felt right, despite being inexplicably more torn up than the others. He fished it out and Schuester peered over to read it, before Spencer even had a chance to do it himself.

 

“Mason McCarthy.” Schue announced, a bright smile on his face.

 

_Crap._

 

He cursed himself for ever thinking drawing names out of a hat was better than the _Wheel of Musical Fortune._

 


	14. All MY Friends, Stay Up Past Midnight (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I know it's been forever and I don't even know how many of you are still reading this but yeah, I finally freaking updated. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but right after my exams I got a pretty bad case of Bell's Palsy (in case you don't know what it is, it's when half your face is literally paralyzed) which meant that I couldn't stare at a screen for too long since I couldn't close my right eye entirely also I was just really down about it (since there's no cure and the doctor said he couldn't give me a time-frame for it since it's so unpredictable it could be anything from 3 weeks to a year!). The worst.
> 
> This was going to be a longer chapter but I decided to split it hope ya dig it!

“Lucky we weren’t the victims of that whole king-sized bed switch-up, huh?” Spencer said, dropping his duffel bag on the lush, carpeted floor. For some reason, there had been a mix up with the reservation and a lot of the guys had been forced to share a bed. In other circumstances, Spencer wouldn’t have really cared. But with Mason? That was infinitely more complicated. He was sure he’d let out an audible sigh of relief when he’d opened the door to the two narrow beds. Things were definitely less tangled up between them, but he wasn’t sure they’d ever reach that level of comfort with each other now.

 

“Yeah,” Mason said, as he walked into the room, dragging his suitcase behind him, “That would’ve been _slightly_ awkward.”  ‘Slightly awkward’ was an understatement, the mix of teenage boy hormones and Spencer’s uncontrollable habit of rolling to wherever the closest source of heat was in his sleep would’ve certainly been more than just _‘slightly awkward’_.

 

“Dibs on the bed by the window!” Spencer said, throwing himself at the crisp, white-sheeted bed by the large window. There wasn’t much of a view—just sides of other buildings, a convenience store and a strip of shops souvenir shops— and it felt like anyone that looked up from the street would be able to see him but he was in LA! He wanted to wake up and immediately see that he wasn’t Lima, Ohio for the first time in his life.

 

“No fair!” Mason protested. “I didn’t know we were doing dibs!”

 

“Dibs are always in play. Without them it’d be anarchy.” Spencer smirked. He kicked off his shoes and settled into the fluffed up pillows on the bed, intent of enjoying every second of rest he had. Schuester had already told them to be down in fifteen to start rehearsing.

 

Mason made a face.

 

“Do you think we’ll be able to squeeze in any sightseeing?”

 

“Maybe, I mean the New Directions are actually prepared for once,” Mason shrugged, “Kitty told me that pretty much every year they came up with the choreography like, the day before.”

 

“That actually doesn’t surprise me.” Spencer shook his head. It was endearing, and part of their charm, but these were Nationals! They couldn’t just wing it. “I want to be able to explore the city though, take pictures, be an obnoxious tourist.”

 

“Get sunburnt on one of those red double decker buses.”

“ _Yes._ ” Spencer nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

 

The phone on the table between the beds rang, its tiny green light flashing.

“Hello?” Mason greeted cheerfully. “What? I don’t think we can—No, _of course_ I want to, I’m just not sure it’s all—”

 

Spencer half-listened to the half of the conversation Mason was having. His tone grew more exasperated and his gestures more frantic as it went on. He was probably talking to Madison.

 

“So,” Mason started, after hanging up, “Jane wants to switch rooms.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, I know it’s weird of me to ask you and all, but Madison is always at my place and her parents are always at hers and we never have, you know, _time for ourselves_.” He pressed his lips together in a tight line, his gaze dropped to the floor, partly in embarrassment and partly in shame. He wrapped and unwrapped the drawstring of his sweatpants around his fingers. He wore them with plain t-shirt and a slouchy beanie out of which peeked out a few stubborn curls. He only had one earring on—the other one had somehow vanished on the ride from the airport to the hotel. Spencer noted how rare it was to see him out of his uniform—and in pants that didn’t look like a second skin.“And I was wondering if it’d be cool with you to stay with Kitty and Mads.”

 

“Don’t worry, I get it.” While he was glad he was avoiding some potential discomfort, something still tugged in him.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about. Like I said—I get it.”

 

“They’re in 620.”

 

“And it’s just for tonight, I think.”

 

“She can stay here every night, seriously.” Spencer didn’t want to go back to a room in which Jane and Mason had gotten it on. The thought of it made him feel a little sick. No amount of care instilled  on the cleaning by the housekeeping crew would make him un-know what had (literally) transpired the day before. “Guess you can have that bed by the window.” Spencer said—he intended for it to sound jokey, but there was an edge to his words he hadn’t been able to smooth out before saying them. He swiftly picked up his things and was out the door.

 

“See you in a few.”

 

 

______

 

You’d think they were in the military, the way Ms.Berry was running rehearsals. Mr.Schue could only step in so much. They had been at it for hours now, any water in their body gone from sweating so much. You could smell in disgustingly damp-feeling air of the room. They were all exhausted, breathless and in desperate need of a shower.

 

“From the top.” Ms.Berry shouted, her voice made shriller by the microphone she’d managed to get her hands on. “You need to work on your harmonies.”

 

“What we need is a break.” Kitty protested, collapsing dramatically next to Mason, “Or else we’ll have no voices for harmonies.”

“Fine.” Ms.Berry huffed, eyebrows knitted together. “Fifteen minute break everyone! I expect to see your best show-faces when you come back. Not whatever you guys have on right now.” She retreated to where Mr.Schue and Mr.Hummel stood, arms crossed in annoyance over their lack of stamina.

 

“Man,” Madison said, placing her hand on Mason’s shoulder, “It’s like they never fired Coach Sylvester.”

 

“How can someone so tiny be so intimidating?”

 

“Believe me, it’s possible.” Myron said as he joined them, a wicked smile on his face.

 

“Any of you have any water? Because I am dying here.” Spencer sat down next to Kitty, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this sweaty. Not even in practice. I felt a tiny bead of sweat, like, drip down my butt crack. It was weird.”

 

“And,” Kitty said, as she immediately retreated from lounging on Spencer. “ _Overshare_.”

 

The McCarthys laughed.

 

“We’re not at that level yet?” Spencer asked, amused. “Does that mean we’re not going to be talking about the all too intimate details of our lives at our girls’ night in sleepover tonight?”

 

“Have you ever been to a girl sleepover, Spence?” Madison asked. The mention of the roommate trade made Mason wince (he hoped it had only been internally). He’d picked up on something in Spencer’s voice, he wasn’t sure of what it was but it didn’t sound like excited relief—despite Spencer’s attempt at masking it that way, Mason knew him well enough to know what was an act and what was not. Was it hurt he had detected? We’re they going two steps back again? He had hesitated, when Jane proposed the switch to him but had it been because he didn’t want to hurt Spencer, or because he didn’t want to switch himself? The thought of it made Mason immediately look for Jane in the crowded room. She was talking to Roderick. 

 

“If you start talking about you body fluids throughout the night I am coming for Tweedledee.” Kitty scowled at Mason, “I know you and your girlfriend want to bump uglies, a thought I shudder at, but if  I have to hear about Porter’s butt sweat while I’m trying to get some well-deserved rest because of that—“

“Calm down, Kitty.” Spencer said, shoulder bumping hers playfully, “We’ll just rent a movie and bitch about things.”

 

“Perfect.” Kitty and Madison said in unison.

 

“Can I come?” Myron asked, eyes going wide.

 

“Not a chance, squirt.”  Kitty scoffed.


End file.
